


To Stand Witness

by mobilisinmobili



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angry Yuri Plisetsky, Blood and Gore, Career Ending Injuries, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fights, Fire, Fist Fights, Gangs, Gore, Hate Crimes, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Kidnapping, Memories, Outing, Podium Family, Police, Post-Grand Prix Final, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Victor Nikiforov, Psychological Torture, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Serious Injuries, Team as Family, Torture, Trauma, Vendettas, Yakov Feltsman Is So Done, Young Victor Nikiforov, Yuri Plisetsky Needs a Hug, parental victor nikiforov, yakov feltsman needs a hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2019-11-13 02:50:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 25
Words: 37,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18023357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mobilisinmobili/pseuds/mobilisinmobili
Summary: Yuri shows up at Victor's door at 4 AM and it just hit too close to home..or.Victor has a protective streak a mile long and can most certainly be downright terrifying in the right situations.





	1. Chapter 1

Makkachin was the first to wake at the knocking, barking up a storm in front of the front door.

"Makka! Here girl. Shhhh" Victor emerged at the top of the stairs blinking away the sleep still in his eyes.

He yawned as he got to where Makka sat, scratching her head to get her quiet.

And then he heard it, three light knocks in succession.

He paused before moving to look through the peephole only to rush to unlock the door.

"Yuri? Come in. come in! It's freezing outside!" he ushered the blonde in before shutting and locking the door again.

Makka moved backwards into the living room, tail wagging as the teen followed.

"Stay here. I'll go make some tea." Victor turned and rushed down the hall to the kitchen to put the kettle on, leaving Yuri to have a seat on the sofa.

It was a few minutes before he brought over two steaming mugs of tea, handing one to the blonde. And then he did a double take, almost dropping his own mug in surprise.

"Yuri. What happened?"It was a tone Yuri had only heard a few times before. Serious. Bordering on angry. He knew Victor was pushing through it to keep his voice as calm as he could for Yuri's own sake.

"Victor? Who is it?" Yuuri's voice carried from upstairs.

Victor hesitated, looking back at Yuri for a moment before answering.

"Yuuri."

"Yeah?"

"Call Yakov. Now please."

Yuuri was down within moments, phone at his ear already calling Yakov.

He froze when he came into the living room and saw who it was sitting on his couch.

"Katsuki. What do I owe this four AM phone call?"

Yuuri lurched back into action, flinging the phone to Victor who caught it expertly with his free hand..

"Yakov?"

"Victor."

"You need to get over here as soon as possible."

He heard a bed creaking on Yakov's end.

"What's wrong?"

Victor's attention flicked back to Yuri's face, as his eyes narrowed.

"Yuri knocked on the door a few minutes ago."

"Your house?"

"Exactly."

Victor swallowed the lump in his throat.

"He's wearing a hoodie."

"It's snowing right now..." He could hear a car starting in the background as they continued the conversation in rapid Russian.

Victor's eyes flicked up as Yuuri returned with their first aid kit.

"Yuri." there was no answer as the blonde stared straight ahead, seemingly oblivious to what was happening.

Yuuri waved a hand in front of his eyes. "Yuri. Yuri?" He went in to put a hand on Yuri's arm before stumbling back as the teen recoiled with a muffled shout of pain.

And then Yuuri noticed it, the sizeable dark spots on the black hoodie.

He knew even before he looked down at his own hand to see blood.

"Victor!" Yuuri held out his hand, eyes wide in worry.

"Shit.." he hissed, sitting up on his haunches to meet Yuri's eyes before taking a full inventory of what he was seeing.

And what he was seeing was not good.

He could see a bruise beginning to form above Yuri's right eye marked with tiny cuts all around.

The cuts grew down the neck and around the uncovered area near where his breastbone would be.

His lithe hands and fingers didn't look better, red and raw with dried blood.

"Get him settled. I'm on my way." Yakov hung up.

"Yuri. Look at me, please?" Yuri turned, eyes too dull for Victor's liking.

He looked confused.

"What happened?"

Yuri flinched, hands curling into fists at his side.

"Some-someone-" his voice sounded pained.

"-was in my flat.”

Victor swore under his breath shooting off a text for Yakov to keep him up to date.

“Did you see anyone suspicious? Anyone hanging around the rink?” 

"I don't  _ know _ !" he half sobbed, curling into himself. 

“I got back late. Th-it was a mess. Everything was flipped.” he continued in a shaky voice. 

Victor’s blood ran cold. 

“I-I was standing in front of a window and it shattered…” he stared at his hands. 

“And I heard footsteps so I ran. My skate bag.. It’s still in my flat…” 

Viktor’s brows drew together as he took in Yuri’s odd concern. 

“But you’re safe now. We can go get it in the morning.” 

“We don’t have time.” Yuri groaned, scrubbing his face with the sleeves of his bloodied hoodie. 

“Sponsor’s gala starts at seven. And then we have the good will clinic.” 

Yuuri gasped. 

“That’s today?!” 

“It got rescheduled to today, remember?” Victor answered gently. 

“Yurochka. You should sit this one out. You’ve had a traumatic incident,  _ and  _ you’re injured.” Victor turned to the blonde who took a deep breath, wincing slightly before letting it out. The adrenalyn was running low and he looked  _ beyond  _ tired. 

“Everyone skating in the next Grand Prix from the rink is obligated to attend. That was part of the contract for this season.” 

“They’ll understand.”

“We can’t tell them!” Victor drew back slightly, looking all the more concerned. 

“Yuri, what happened is a  _ crime.”  _ Victor met Yuri’s lowered gaze, trying to get through to the shaken teen.

There was a moment of tense silence before Yuri reached into his hoodie pocket, withdrawing what looked to be a crumpled sheet of printer paper. 

“I saw it on the way out.”

He straightened it out the best he could with shaky hands, trying his damn hardest to keep his breathing leveled and the angry tears at bay before handing it over to Victor who took one glance and stood up, wrapping the hunched over teen in a hug.

“Oh my god…” Yuuri breathed, sounded faintly sickened at what he was seeing. 

“This wasn’t even  _ in  _ Russia…” 

The floodgates began to crack as the blonde melted into the hug, slowly but surely. Still shaking.

Victor ran his hands through cold strands, murmuring calming things in Russian as he took another look at the paper. 

It was a grainy photo, but close enough that it was obvious the one against the wall was indeed Yuri Plisetsky. 

One Otabek Altin leaned in, arms against the wall, caging Yuri in. 

They weren’t touching in the very least, but it was obvious that they would be very soon. That much was obvious from the genuine smile frozen within the photo. Yuri looked like he had been laughing, faint laughter lines lined his eyes. And from the very small part of the side of Otabek’s face they could see, so was he. 

It was obviously meant to be a private moment, if Christophe had informed him correctly, it had ended with a chaste kiss as they decided to go explore the city. 

Nothing else. 

“This is inside the hotel?” 

Yuri nodded against Victor’s chest, still working to get the breathing under control. 

“When Christophe walked out to the hall?” 

He nodded again. 

“But only skaters are allowed on that hall.” Yuuri added quietly. 

Victor froze before staring back at the photo. 

It had to be within the skating community then..

Someone at the competition had _publicly,_ very specifically outed Yuri of all the skaters. They had gone for the _kid,_ who had worked so hard to make sure things stayed on the down low until they could figure something out. They had sidestepped himself who had all but painted a target on his own back with his announced engagement to Yuuri. 

That in itself stoked a fury that burned. 

He wanted to scream. 

It wasn’t  _ fair.  _

Victor held Yuri out at arms length, face seriously as plans clicked into his head.

“We won’t go to the police for this.” 

Yuri let out a shaky sigh of relief. 

Getting the authorities involved wouldn’t help. Especially when he  _ knew  _ they’d ask for reasons. 

The thought of having that photo leaked sent his heart racing uncomfortably.

“I’ll figure out who it was. I’m sure Christophe has his own connections as well. J.J might actually be tolerable this time...”

“I’ll talk to Phichit and the younger ones.” Yuuri nodded.

“But first off, we’ve got to bandage you up. You’re bleeding, Yurochka. It’ll get infected.” His eyes flicked down his shirt that was spotted with drying blood from Yuri’s arm. 

The younger hesitated before slowly pulling his hoodie off, wincing as he peeled off the fabric that caked on top of angry red cuts, some of which looked worryingly deep. 

“I wasn’t wearing the hoodie when the window shattered.” 

Victor grimaced at the sight of the redness up and down Yuri’s arms.

Some had even caught on his neck, down to his collarbone.  

“You’re bruising.” 

“I hit a side table on the way down.” 

Victor hummed disprovingly, working slowly to wipe around the cuts as gently as he can. 

He looked up briefly when there was a knock, but promptly went back to work as Yuuri jolted up, rushing to answer. 

Yakov entered briskly, stopping as he surveyed the situation on the couch as bloodied wipes began piling on the coffee table that was pulled up to where Victor was steadily working. 

Yuuri grabbed the paper off of the floor, handing it to Yakov with a frown. 

“We think someone at the last competition outed Yuri.”

Yuri kept his head down, bit Yakov could still see the red-rimmed eyes, and for a moment he was back to four AM  _ years _ ago when he got to the rink to find Victor barely conscious on the bleacher behind the coach’s box. 

He was pretty sure it was one of  _ the  _ most terrifying moments of his life as he followed the trail of blood drops to find the then teen Victor curled into a ball looking like he wasn’t breathing. Lip busted looking like someone had slammed his head against a wall. He had to hold his breath while he shook the teen's shoulder.

He hadn’t talked for a solid week after that, choosing to wear hoodies with the hood, hiding under the hood while steadily refusing to skip practice even though he was still limping.

Yakov had found out later from the grapevine that Victor had decided to spend a night at the rink but had gotten hungry and decided to go on a run to a nearby 24/7 mini mart. 

It was supposed to be a quick in and out, and at eleven PM, the lights were still on, so he had thought nothing of it, still hyped up about the new jump sequence he’d gotten down. 

He’d was noticed at the mini mart, and within seconds, word spread like wildfire to the clerk’s lowlife friends that Russia’s “national hero” was out and about all alone. 

To be fair, Victor had landed some  _ particularly  _ painful hits. He was a national athlete after all. He worked out. 

But these kids. 

They were  _ ruthless… _

Victor never brought it up again, and Yakov never pushed, but neither could help the sinking feeling when practice happened to run later than anticipated or when Yuri had finally moved into his own flat not too far away from Victor and Yuuri’s place. 

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t aware that Victor had staked out the nearby area when Yuri had decided, committing every detail to memory  _ just in case. _

But, just in case had warped into one of Victor’s biggest fears. Yakov could tell from the sagging shoulders and the way that he just  _ wouldn’t  _ look at Yakov.

It was hitting  _ far  _ too close to home.

“I’ll be hungover tomorrow.” Victor stated non committedly, continuing his work. 

Yakov nodded. 

“We’ll have the rink’s photographer do the photos.” 

Victor gave a short nod. 

“I’ll keep the VIP box cold as well…” he muttered, unable to look away from the pile of crimson wipes. 

“I’ll text everyone to keep their jackets on or wear a long sleeve.” Victor said as he put the wipes down and picked up the pack of cotton balls and antiseptic. 

“This might sting.” 

Yuri’s jaws tightened as he felt his wounds burn. 

Yakov pulled Yuuri to the side outside the living room to give him the guest list for the sponsor’s gala and the goodwill clinic, informing him of what they were generally expected to do.

“I hate to do this, but if we’re going to keep this covered, he’s going to have to skate.” Yakov muttered. 

Yuuri sighed. 

“Maybe he can skate the current sp for the gala and then we can think of something for the clinic.”

Yakov sighed. 

The goodwill clinic… The monster idea formed by someone who wasn’t even a skater. He’d been furious when the head of the Winter Sports Committee had approached him, only a month in advance,  _ days _ before a big competition to inform him of a new initiative. 

_ Goodwill clinic.  _ He had been at a loss for words when they had explained to him the absolute  _ idiotic  _ idea. 

“It’s to build goodwill and sportsmanship between team Russia’s winter sports teams!”

Which was how he came to explain to the skaters on the team that they would have the  _ wonderful  _ opportunity to teach the hockey team some figure skating.

They hadn’t said a word either. Even Victor had stood silent, looking at Yakov like he’d lost his mind. 

He grimaced at the memory. 

* * *

 

“It’s a new initiative, and it’s going to be televised.”

No one said a word, just staring in confusion. 

“The hockey team taught the speed skating team, so now they’re going to learn under the figure skating team. It’s just how the straw pick worked.”

Yuri had rolled his eyes, muttering about dumb ideas. 

“They obviously don’t have any high hopes. It’s just supposed to show sportsmanship and the fact that Russia has a cohesive winter sports lineup.”

“How many members are they sending?” Victor asked. 

“For now, they’re sending seven out of their total fourteen.” 

“Are we all skating?” Yuri asked. 

“Yes. Victor, Georgi, Yuri, and Mila with three of our junior skaters.”

“So seven on seven?” Victor quirked a brow.

Yakov nodded. 

“It’s going to be two hours. Nothing less. Two hours of basic skating and then photos and everyone will go on their way. There  _ will not  _ be any sort of problems. Understood?!” 

* * *

 

“Leave that to me.” Victor emerged from the living room with his hands full of bloodied wipes. 

Yakov shot Victor a hard stare.

“It’ll be  _ fine.” _

Yuuri could only hope.


	2. Chapter 2

When it came down to it, Yakov was impressed. Victor had laid every sort of safety net over the situation he could come up with within the last three hours. 

The rink was definitely colder than normal, and everyone just  _ happened  _ to be wearing the same basic high neck long sleeve thermal under their national jackets, walking into the VIP lounge as a unit lead by Victor himself who was wearing a pair of reflective aviators that just screamed  _ shut up. _

“I’m not sure why there are still cameras here, but I’ll tell you right now that if I see  _ any  _ cameras from here on out, I  _ will  _ walk out.” 

Yakov facepalmed, but he had to admit that it was a good idea. 

No one other than Victor could get away with such a show of arrogance. And he knew they wouldn’t go against the man. 

Victor stood, arms crossed until he personally saw all of the cameras put away. 

“And when you all come down to the rink, you can just leave the cameras and bags here. Yakov will lock the room.” 

There were bursts of protests before Victor stared them down. 

* * *

 

Victor eventually took his sunglasses off to reveal tired eyes, something they had jumped on.

He waved them off with a chuckle and some muttered words about bad choices and vodka. 

They’d laughed at that, missing the look of utter confusion from the rest of the team. 

Victor would  _ never  _ do something so impulsive so close to an important competition. 

And from his position from the back of the room, Yuuri slowly started to realize something. Something amazing but also altogether  _ terrifying.  _

He turned to Yakov who shrugged. 

“He’s doesn’t use it very often anymore, Victor was crazy manipulative when he was younger. He knows how to work people.” Yakov answered shortly. 

Within the past thirty minutes Yuri hadn’t had to answer a single question directly, which would have been interesting if Victor had taken up the whole interview, but it wasn’t even that. 

He worked it so that everyone bounced off eachother but  _ specifically  _ not Yuri.

He felt chills down his spine as the interview came to a close.

* * *

 

By some fluke, the sound system had stopped working after Georgi’s sp, leaving Yuri and Victor having not skated. 

It went for a good twenty minutes before the sponsors had gotten tired, assuring them that they had no doubt in mind that both skaters would bring their “A-game”. They gathered on the ice to take closing pictures, by the rink photographer, and filed out, returning to their busy schedules. 

Yuuri jumped as he felt someone rush behind him after the sponsors left. 

“Wha-”

Victor stopped to shoot him a smile before tossing his jacket on a nearby bleacher, wedging himself in under the complicated sound system, and within minutes, Yuri’s short program music blared from the speakers. 

Victor wiggled back out, dusting himself off before putting his jacket back on to move on like nothing had happened. 

Even Yakov acted like nothing had gone wrong, standing beside Yuuri as he surveyed the empty ice with a small smirk.

Yuuri was going to pretend he didn’t see the eye roll the moment the double doors opened once more. 

Yakov sighed before making his way over to the towering man leading the muscled group of guys looking uncomfortably unsure of the situation at hand. 

“Yakov.” 

“Chugunkin.” 

The two shook hands before Yakov ushered them over to where the Victor and the rest of the team stood in their skate guards. 

“They’ve already stretched so you all can start right away.” the coach told Yakov. 

Victor moved past the team to where Yuuri stood with seven boxes. He helped carry them over, letting Mila read the names on each box. 

“A goodwill gesture from the singles skating team.” Victor elaborated, photo worthy smile on his face as the other skaters muttered offhanded thank yous.

“They’ve been sharpened so they’ll have more bite. But it might take a little while to get used to them. They’ll fit tighter than hockey skates.” Victor continued as he handed out the last box. 

The hockey players wasted no time in slipping on the skates, looking surprisingly fitting without all of the heavy guards. If anything, in sweatpants and hoodies, they looked a little like J.J…

They entered the ice together, taking a few laps in the new skates before the broadcaster stepped on the ice, nearly falling with mic in one hand and a cup in the other. 

“Well, since we  _ are  _ on the singles skating base, we’ll start with that team!” he gestured animatedly to the camera. 

“How should we do this? Hmm… How about, we’ll line up by medals!” 

Yuuri rolled his eyes. What a showboat…In a way it was insulting...

They didn’t really have to move much, except for Mila and Georgi who switched places. Victor and Yuri remained side by side looking amusedly down the line as the junior skaters decided to remain in place. 

“Victor Nikiforov! The man, the legend!” Victor waved. 

“How many medals?” 

Victor looked around, mentally counting. 

“I’ve lost count around 20 to be honest with you.” he chuckled lightly. 

“Twenty?!” 

“Twenty.” he nodded. 

“Many of them consecutive, if I’m not mistaken.” 

Victor nodded again. “That is correct.” 

“Am _ azing _ ” the man crowed before moving on. 

“Yuri Plisetsky! The newest up and coming skater to beat in the senior division.” Yuri nodded, working to keep his expression neutral. He could practically  _ feel  _ Yakov’s glare on him. 

“You’ve  _ just  _ turned 18. How does that feel?” 

“...New…” 

“Right.. Well, is there anyone special out there? Or are you an eligible bachelor?” 

Yuuri saw Victor tense just a little before putting a hand on Yuri’s shoulder. 

“Now now, lets keep this on track. I’m sure your viewers are more interested in his ability and skill.” the threat wasn’t audible, but it was palpable. Enough so that a few of the hockey players stared over warily. 

“Right. Right! Back on track! So, Yuri. How many medals?”

“Around ten?”  He shrugged. 

“I’m pretty sure Georgi and I are tied in terms of Gold.” 

Mila nodded. 

“So around ten. And, Georgi Popovich, ten as well?” Georgi nodded enthusiasticly. 

“Amazing! I particularly enjoyed your last short program mr. Popovich.” 

“Thank you.” Georgi replied charmingly. 

“And Mrs. Mila Babicheva.” he skated down the line. 

“I hear that you were a little late to compete.” 

“I wanted to train a little longer before my debute.” She responded evenly. 

“I see. But now that you are competing more, how does it feel?” 

“It’s great! I love going into competitions knowing that I am more prepared.” she smiled. 

“I don’t have as many medals yet, but I’m sure I’ll catch up soon.” 

The host nodded enthusiastically. 

“Alright then. Lastly we have three junior skaters?” they looked to Victor who skated to them. 

“They’re midway through their juniors stage, so by next year they should be eligible for seniors.” Victor answered with a nod. 

“A little later than normal, no?” Mila narrowed her eyes at the slight, but Victor spoke first. 

“Not at all. If anything, I rushed through juniors and into seniors  _ far  _ too early. They’ll be more prepared than I was. It’s a new era. They’ll pass me eventually for sure.” there was no room for argument. 

Yuuri smiled. 

No matter what people said about Victor’s near cocky confidence, he knew that Victor had grown into it. Worked to earn that right. But he wasn’t heartless. He really did care for the younger skaters. That much was obvious even if he didn’t see the juniors as much as he did the seniors. 

The host moved on, introducing the hockey team before turning back to Victor at the front of the line. 

“Alright, we’ll choose partners by random selection, so if you would be so kind, Mr. Nikiforov.” he held the cup out.

Victor selected a piece before unfolding it. 

“Kaprizov?” he surveyed the opposite line up as a well muscled blonde raised his hand. 

They went down the line until everyone was paired, spreading out to give each other space. 

“The goal is to be able to teach your partner the first minute of any of your short programs!” the voice rang out. 

Yuuri chuckled. 

This ought to be fun... 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> could you even imagine the chaos if this actually happened?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no doubt in my mind that given the right circumstances, Victor has the ability to straight up stomp someone on ice and still make it look graceful

If anyone noticed that Victor seemed more than a little distracted while going through the choreography with his partner, no one said anything. Most likely because by the half hour mark everyone on the ice realized that this was no joke, and that Victor had  _ every  _ intention of getting the struggling hockey player to be at least semi decent. 

If anything, he owed it to his program. The days upon days he had worked to perfect it. The medals he had won performing it. 

He wasn’t about to desecrate it for some ridiculous ploy to get viewers excited for the up and coming Olympics. 

He would gladly play Russia’s poster child for skating when the time came. He’d smile and woo when need be, but right now he was pre-competition Victor. An insane perfectionist to say the very least. ‘Mercy’ had gone out the window the moment they had stepped out on the ice. 

He had seen the eye rolls from some of the younger members of the hockey team. Some unsavory muttering about masculinity had reached his ears as well. 

Which didn’t surprise him in the very least. It wasn’t just Russia. He had heard it all over the world. 

Anything and everything from the costumes to the grace. 

But it all eventually compounded with the word  _ gay.  _

_ Fag.  _

_ Homo.  _

_ Freak.  _

Of  _ course  _ he had heard those before, along with countless others in a variety of languages. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t care. 

He did. 

He was human too, afterall.

But at the same time, those were all just  _ words _ . Words hurled behind keyboards or sometimes, every now and then, hurled straight at his face. 

But he knew that the medal in his hand would be all that was necessary to silence them for the time being. 

He had learned some painful lessons growing up. Bruised from learning to love himself and the way that he was so that he could be comfortable in his skin. 

So when he caught three of the younger skaters grouped together staring at him and muttering with sneers near the wall taking a water break, he promptly turned back to his partner to help the poor guy work on his step sequence. 

“This is insane.” Kaprizov hissed, sweating slightly unable to keep his balance. 

“You should take a break.” Victor replied, hands on his hips, looking past the man to watch Yurio try, and fail, to teach his partner his spin sequence step by step. Yuri’s partner didn’t seem to be doing too much better, looking beyond confused. 

“How long did it take you to get this whole thing down?” it wasn’t exactly friendly, but it wasn’t hostile. Victor could respect that.

He turned back to the red faced skater, face neutral as he handed the man a water bottle.

“I practiced give or take two months. On and off ice.” 

Kaprizov quirked a brow. 

“Did you win?” 

“I set a new world record.” 

Kaprizov nodded appreciatively.

“I’m not going to lie, you guys are pretty amazing.” it threw Victor for a loop. 

“Thank you…”  

His attention flicked back to the group who had moved their attention from Victor. He followed their gaze before narrowing his eyes, shoulders tensing. 

It was one thing to be the center of the hate. He could handle it. He had handled it, for years on end. From his junior days to being a consecutive champion. 

He could tolerate.

But he  _ would not  _ tolerate that sort of behavior to be directed towards Yuri. To Yuri or any of the younger skaters. 

The ones who looked up to him with wide eyes, hoping to become the next best. The kids who were in love with skating, just as much as he had been when he started. 

“Kaprizov?”

“Yes?” 

“I’m telling you this well in advance as an athlete.”

The man furrowed his brow at the sudden ice that underlined Victor’s words. 

“If I so much as see your junior skaters touch Plisetsky-” he nodded towards Yuri. 

“-I will not hesitate to stomp them in front of the cameras.” 

Kaprizov started, following Victor’s line of sight to see that his junior skaters had, in fact, abandoned their partners and were grouped against the wall glaring over at the blonde skater who had just jumped into a death drop. 

“They’re just being boys. All talk, no action.” the man tried to defuse Victor’s mounting anger.

There was a beat of silence before Victor turned, meeting Kaprizov’s eyes straight on looking worryingly bemused. 

“You and I both know the type of conversations that center around male figure skaters. You seem like a decent person. Can fend for yourself.  You’re a good captain.” Victor’s cold eyes narrowed. 

“But it won’t always be talk, Kaprizov.” 

He lifted his bangs to show a jagged line from his left ear to a point at the top of the left side of his forehead. 

A vicious reminder of what he had grown through. 

“I was about his age too. Went for a late food run during an all nighter at the rink. They were about their age as well.” Victor put his bangs down. 

“I had long hair too. Wore tight clothes. The clerk recognized me and leaked my location. It was six against one, and not one of them had  _ any  _ qualms about possibly killing me.” Kaprizov stared, unable to look away. 

“My coach found me on the bleacher over there-” he nodded to the coach’s box “-unconscious and bleeding out in a pool of my own blood. They broke three ribs, sprained my ankle and dislocated my shoulder.”

The man took a deep breath. “I’ll talk to them.” he answered, tone leaving no room for argument..

He turned to the oblivious group before letting out a shrill whistle. 

“You better be able to do a  _ goddamn  _ full program if you think you can stop!” the skaters scattered, rushing back to their respective partners, feeling the captain’s disapproving gaze on them. 

He continued to stare a moment longer before turning back to Victor. 

“Rest assured, if any of my boys touch any of the figure skaters I’ll beat them myself.” he answered with a nod.

“But for right now, we should get back to it if you want me to be better than terrible.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is going to be so angsty! But more Yuri talking about and trying to get through the traumatic event.   
> Also, any guesses as to which way the hockey team is going to spring? Good? Bad? Neutral?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never underestimate an angry protective Victor.

The hour ended in a rush of laughter and general good sportsmanship, but Victor couldn’t bring himself to let his guard down. 

Not while the cameras were still present. 

While Kaprizov and the older skaters managed to keep their thoughts to themselves, it seemed that it was becoming progressively more difficult for the junior skaters to do the same. 

It was an irritating stroke of bad planning that had left Yuri standing to Victor’s left, with the three junior skaters lined up right beside him, leaning against the rink wall to watch each individual performance. 

Which, all in all, weren’t as bad as any of them expected them to go.

But Victor’s attention had been stolen, as he kept glancing sideways at Yuri’s stoic face. 

He was liking the situation just about as much as Victor was, resolutely staring ahead, pointedly ignoring the not so discreet glances from both sides. 

He wasn’t stupid. He knew that he’d been receiving less than kind looks the entire hour. But with all of the cameras, in the name of good sportsmanship, he resolutely did his best to block them out the best he could. 

But it was just. So. Fucking.  _ Irritating. _

They couldn’t  _ possibly _ be this oblivious.   

Had it been anywhere else, there would have been a confrontation by now, with possible punches thrown, depending on how the situation went from there. 

But this time he’d wait... 

He’d hold it all in watching everyone else go, some very blatantly making a mockery of the whole thing, which did nothing more than set a spark of indignance in his gut. 

He watched as his partner fumbled through what was the first fifteen seconds of the program before falling,  _ rather  _ hard, brushing it off with an indulgent laugh. 

But it didn’t reach his eyes. 

Yuri could see it. He was positive Victor could as well. 

The man did his best to hide his sentiment but it showed.

In the way that his pseudo smile seemed to morph into a hard line when the cameras looked the other way. 

Or the  _ too obvious  _ aura of discomfort from having to even go through the motions. 

It wasn’t anything new. 

He’d come fully expecting it to be this way.

Which was why he felt a surge of irrational irritation once his mind  _ really  _ started to notice it. 

It felt like a punch to the gut once he really  _ really  _ realized that these people really probably didn’t like him. 

Or Victor. 

Or any of the male skaters they’d been paired with. 

Simply out of the frankly stereotypical and beyond toxic beliefs they had about male figure skaters. 

That in any other setting, none of them would probably feel an ounce of guilt at telling him exactly what they thought, about the sport he played. The way he moved. The billions of reasons as to why the people he loved were just as disgusting and subhuman as the way he loved was just as well. 

So when Kaprizov took to the ice, watched on by Victor who mustered up a small smile, mentally and emotionally preparing himself to see his piece smeared all over the ice for the amusement of countless of nameless faces, he decided he couldn’t watch. 

He wouldn’t watch. 

Which was why he turned and made his way over briskly to where his bag sat to change out of his skates into his tennis shoes, not deeming Victor’s inquisitive look an answer. 

Guilt tugged at him as he noticed the torn look, but he squashed it down to make his way out of there as fast as he could, not even warranting a look back as walked off beyond the double doors. 

He wasn’t entirely sure as to where he was headed, but the general idea was to kill enough time before he’d have to make it back inside the suffocating rink.

It was just luck that he heard someone approaching from the opposite side, probably having left from the far end of the rink. 

He had just enough time to slide himself behind the front desk before he saw three unfortunately familiar faces most likely making their way to the bathroom. 

He knew it wasn’t the greatest situation, and it would probably haunt him forever if he were to be found out, but he couldn’t help but push himself closer against the counter, pressure surprisingly offering a feeling of safety. 

“He’s lucky. Can’t believe the coach let him off for this one.” one of them whined. 

“I mean, he took one for the team. I’m surprised he didn’t get anything more than a one game ban.” 

Yuri’s gut dropped. 

He had a horrible feeling he knew where this was headed, hoping against all hope that he’d be wrong. 

Because if he was right, he didn’t know  _ what  _ he would do… 

“But you’re sure that this is the guy?”

“I’m telling you. It’s him. I heard Rolf say it was Pli something, in passing. What are the odds. His name is Plisetsky.” 

Yuri’s eyes widened as he took in a shaky breath trying his absolute  _ damn  _ hardest to keep his breathing under control. 

He wasn’t about to have a meltdown here of all places, behind the front desk. 

He’d hold it in until they passed and make his way back to the rink and find Victor and- 

And… 

H-he’d… 

_ Oh god…  _

If the junior skaters knew, the rest of the team would probably know as well. Hell, the coach probably knew as well. 

He knew and he wasn’t about to do anything about it. 

Which meant that it would be up to Yuri to figure things out. 

But he couldn’t just start pointing fingers. Not without knowing how many people actually knew about the entire incident, including the picture.

_ Especially  _ the picture. 

He buried his face in his hands, scrubbing them aggressively against his face in an attempt to halt the sudden stinging he felt in his eyes.    

_ This isn’t happening.  _

But it was.. 

He didn’t have  _ time  _ for this! 

Yuri’s breathing starting to come quick, head getting lighter and lighter as he tried to push himself closer and closer to the counter, eyes wild as his thoughts began to race a hundred miles per second. 

_ This must be what Katsudon feels like all the time…  _

It was the only thought that made sense amongst the thousands of jumbled thoughts with no start or end. 

_ A panic attack?  _

It was almost scary how divided his mind felt at the very moment. One half feeling like it was on fire while the other couldn’t be bothered. Making seemingly logical thoughts amidst the chaos. 

He needed to get back. 

Victor would be worried. And he knew that Victor would probably come looking if need be. 

Which was what his brain looped over and over again as he took deep breaths trying to slow things down before deeming himself steady enough to stand. 

Which wasn’t the best idea as he swayed in place for a couple of touch and go seconds as his head spun from the lack of air from his little hyperventilating episode. 

He blotted his eyes with his sleeves before getting out from behind the counter, eyes on his shoes as he walked his way back to the rink. 

He couldn’t feel his face. 

Or his hands. 

His legs felt like jelly, brain unable to process the idea of walking, sending him pitching sideways at times. 

But he made it in one piece to the rink back to Victor’s open right, arms loose by his side as he gazed out at the bright empty expanse of ice. 

“I got them to end without you. I figured you’d need some time. Everyone decided to go out to lunch together at that cafe near here.” Victor turned to face Yuri who could bring himself to do the same. 

There were times where he hated the man, but far more when he really  _ really  _ thanked whoever it was that put Victor Nikiforov in his life. 

Like a big brother he never asked for, or particularly wanted, but someone who cared  _ very  _ deeply for him. 

Which he knew Victor did even if he didn’t admit it too much. 

Go figure that the intuitive man would know what Yuri needed after that abrupt exodus…

“Yuri?” Victor gave him a look over before sighing. 

“ _ Yura.  _ You don’t have to hold everything in you know. I’m here for you.” Victor emphasized the point by putting his hands on Yuri’s shoulder before turning him gently so that they were face to face. 

Victor could feel the tense shoulders under his gloves. 

He could see the red rimmed eyes and the clenched jaws. 

He could  _ very  _ well see the way that Yuri just  _ couldn’t  _ bring himself to look at him, and that alone was breaking his heart. 

His protective side reared its head as he continued to stare the blonde down. 

Any other day he may have let it go, but this time he was resolute. 

He needed to know what was wrong. Because there was  _ definitely  _ something wrong. 

Yuri’s jaw worked hard before he sighed,  meeting Victor’s worried gaze with one of unease underlying fear. 

“I-I think” he started, swallowing heavily. 

“I think I know who broke in…” if Victor heard Yuri’s crack towards the end of the sentence he didn’t say anything, eyes widening as understanding trickled into his mind. 

“Who?” it was resolute. Promising sincere vengeance. 

Yuri went to take a shaky breath, but his composure fell the moment he did, breath snowballing into a choked sob. 

Victor wasted no time in pulling the blonde in to a tight hug, rubbing circles on his back with one hand while cradling Yuri’s head onto his chest with the other, letting Yuri grieve knowing the teen needed the time. 

He hadn’t gotten to properly sort his head out after the traumatic experience either. And Victor wasn’t blind.

Yuri had been brave today. He toughed out the entirety of the honestly uncomfortable ordeal with the hockey players, not even  _ once  _ slipping up and losing his cool. 

It was bound to be emotionally draining. 

And Yuri was still a kid. 

An adult but years younger than Victor, and he remembered when he was that young. 

Things had been hard.  _ So  _ hard. And it just pained Victor all the more to know that he couldn’t shield Yuri from  _ everything _ . 

He was only human after all. 

But with every tremor he felt made him hate himself just a little bit more. 

Yuri had begun to hyperventilate, leaning heavily on Victor as his legs began to give out, so he maneuvered Yuri and himself gently on the ground against the rink wall, never once letting Yuri go. 

He whispered encouragements as he continued to rub circles. 

* * *

 

It was a solid half hour before Yuri calmed down enough to talk. 

“They know.” his tone was worryingly empty, eyes glassing over. 

“Everyone knows” he repeated. 

Victor froze for a second before returning to rubbing circles. 

“What are you saying, Yura?” he asked, brows furrowing as a chill ran down his spine. 

“That’s why they were staring.” he continued morosely. 

He pulled tighter into himself. 

“Who is  _ they,  _ Yura? What do they know?” Victor had a growing sense of foreboding. 

He twisted so he was eye to eye with Yuri which was worrying to say the least as the blonde stared back with empty eyes. 

“He’s a part of the hockey team.” Yuri answered softly, clenching his jaw against the stinging that was returning to his eyes, looking resolutely ahead. 

“He’s been suspended for a game.” 

Victor could hear his pulse in his ears. 

“The coach knows. The junior skaters know. They all know.” he listed bluntly. 

“You’re positive about this?” Victor asked, genuine worry coloring his voice. 

“They said they only heard  _ Pli _ something, but that the person skated here.” 

Victor inhaled sharply. 

Oh. There would be  _ blood. _

He wiggled his phone from his pocket before dialing.

“Hello?” 

“Yuuri, love. Are you all still at lunch?” He was working to reign in the anger. Yuuri could tell. 

“We are. Victor, is something wrong?” 

“Can you get back home. I’m going to drop Yuri off, but he shouldn’t be alone right now.” 

“I’ll be there in fifteen.” Yuuri didn’t hesitate. 

“Thank you.”

He made short work of hanging up before turning to face Yuri once more, giving his shoulder a squeeze. 

“Yura. We’re going home.” 

Yuri just stared, looking a bit confused, which skyrocketed Victor’s worry. 

“Let’s get you home.” 

“I can’t.”

“Of course, you can stay at my place. You know my home is your home as well, Yura.” he leaned in before bringing Yuri into a hug. 

“Come now. Let's get you home.

* * *

 

It was nearly seven when Victor’s sleek black Maserati pulled up at Chugunkin’s rink, crawling with junior skaters getting ready for their session on the ice as the senior team changed out of their hockey equipment into their sweats to cool down. 

He made it into the rink without too much attention being paid. 

A couple skaters stared from afar as a silver haired man wearing a national team jacket came barreling briskly down the hall, face pulled into a look of checked fury. 

He looked downright  _ pissed  _ and it was palpable as the younger skaters parted. 

He didn’t even miss a step, eyes searching for something. 

And then he found it. 

“Kaprizov.” 

It was the only warning the man received before Victor latched on to his hoodie before spinning him around with one hand as the other nailed the hockey player’s jaw in a hard punch.

And then all of hell broke loose as the other skaters realized just who had done what to their captain. 

But no one else had the chance to throw punches as the man in question brought up both hands, separating Victor from the other skaters. 

“Nikiforov. They’ve been here the whole time. I swear it.” he turned to face Victor’s flushed face, jaw set as vibrant blues narrowed in obvious fury. 

“You knew. You  _ bastard _ ” 

Victor leaned in, hands balled at his side. 

“Knew what?!” Kaprizov exclaimed looking confused. 

“Don’t give me that  _ bullshit.”  _ Victor swore his peripherals were going red. 

“Plisetsky’s flat got broken into this morning. It was a direct crime of hate. He dragged himself an hour to my place this morning while bleeding out, Kaprizov.” 

He took a step forward. 

“And you and your team knew this  _ entire  _ time. How much more fucking cowardly could you  _ be _ ?” his knuckles were going white. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Kaprizov responded angrily. 

“He heard the three talking. They said the person who broke in was on this team. Your junior skaters specifically knew that it was premeditated and targeted. Don’t play dumb.” 

There was a tense beat of silence before Kaprizov turned to the very three who were watching in aprehension. 

He wordlessly motioned for them to come over before turning back to Victor trying to get an answer out of the stoic man. 

“Is this true?” He turned his gaze to the three who couldn’t make eye contact back. 

No one spoke. 

“I said-” they jumped at the sudden shouting. 

“Is. This. True?” he emphasized the words, tone leaving no room for games. 

“Y-yes sir.” 

Kaprizov’s mouth twisted into an angry scowl.

“Who was it?!” he shouted once more, turning to survey the quiet skaters behind him. 

“I said, who the FUCK was it?!” No one moved, prompting him to grab the nearest object and throw it angrily against the wall. 

The first aid box cracked open the moment it made impact with the wall, sending the items inside flying. 

“Those of you who went to the sportsmanship clinic today. Did you all know?” his voice was barely above a whisper this time, but it was frigid. Sharper than any blade and dripping venom. 

No one could meet his eyes. 

He inhaled sharply. 

“You all  _ knew  _ and you still had the  _ gall  _ to attend? What an absolute  _ disgrace.  _ What the fuck is wrong with you all?!” his anger continued to build, face flushing as disgust ate at his gut. 

And within moments he had his hockey stick in his hand before he brought it down against the surrounding bench, causing everyone to take steps back, flinching as he continued to bring it down hard. 

He finally snapped it into a jagged half with several hostile stomps, unable to reign in his anger as he tossed the broken stick to the side, breathing deeply as his hands shook. 

“I’ll give whoever it is ten seconds to make himself known before I run everyone into the ground.” 

Victor crossed his arms. 

There was no way they were going to out the guy.

“Ten.” 

It was just too close knit. 

Too many people involved. 

“Nine.” 

But he could believe Kaprizov, which was honestly such a relief. 

“Eight.” 

The man was genuinely angry. 

“Seven.”

Which was a good sign. 

“Six.” 

Kaprizov stood, glaring daggers at his own teammates as they remained silent.

“Five.” 

Victor could feel the disappointment already. 

“Four.” 

Kaprizov narrowed his eyes, almost daring the silence. 

“Three.” 

He could see it in the man’s light eyes. He was ready to unleash his own hell on earth. 

“Two.” 

One of the three moved to say something before being pulled back by another. 

The captain quirked a brow. 

“One.” 

The ultimatum was set, and the tone of finality did nothing to help Victor’s unease. 

“Everyone on the track. No one’s going home today.” he stood, leveling the skaters with a resolute stare. 

“Now. Go!” he shouted in an unbridled burst of anger. 

They all took off in a sprint, not one looking back. 

Even the younger skaters milling about turned and walked away leaving the two alone. 

“Nikiforov. My deepest apologies.” he began, looking Victor straight in the eye. 

Something Victor appreciated. 

“You didn’t know?” 

While he truly hoped that the man really had no part in this, he couldn’t help the incredulity. 

How could the  _ captain  _ of all people not have known?”

“I swear to you, I had no clue that this happened. We got to the ice this morning to have practice and went straight over. No one said a word.” the man replied sincerely. 

“They’re rowdy kids, the three junior skaters. But never would I have ever thought they’d hide something like that.’

He took a deep breath.

“That goes for all of the team. They’re all rough around the edges but never in a million years would I have thought they’d do something like that.” 

Victor nodded stiffly. 

This wasn’t the answer he’d be looking for. 

“I’ll find who it is, and I’ll tell the coach and he’ll be binned.”

Victor grimaced. 

“He wouldn’t say who, but Yuri knows the name of the person. But he also said that they had said the coach knew to some extent. The guy got suspended for a game?” 

Kaprizov rubbed at the back of his neck. 

“We’ve got six total who’ve been suspended. I’ll talk to them. Figure out who it is.” 

“And the rest of the team?” 

“They won’t be going home today. If they want to keep a secret, they’ll keep it together and they’ll be punished together. They know what they’ve done.” 

He muttered darkly. 

“Good.” Victor replied. 

“And thank you.” 

Kaprizov quirked a brow. 

“For keeping your word.”


	5. Chapter 5

Victor hadn’t even made it two steps out the door before his phone started ringing. He reached into his coat pocket jostling his keys as he retrieved his phone, not bothering to check the caller ID before answering as he continued to walk to his car. 

He unlocked it and opened the driver’s door and slid in, reaching over to the door with his free hand, balancing his phone between his head and shoulder while starting the ignition.

“Hello?” 

“Victor!  You need to get over here  _ now _ !” 

_ Shit.  _

Victor shut the door quickly, bracing himself with his free arm against his seat and the wheel as tendrils of ice flooded his veins.

“What happened?” 

“He was fine when we got back. I mean, he was still kind of spacy but he walked himself over to the sofa and he drank half the cup of tea I made him. But he started slumping, and I thought it was just because he was tired. But then he jolted off the sofa and sprinted to the bathroom and he threw up.” 

The anxious tone wasn’t doing anything to help the gnawing feeling of panic that was starting to scratch its way up from deep in his gut. 

He wasted no time on stomping on the gas, nearly drifting as he sped the turn out of the rink’s parking lot. 

There was a lull of silence. 

“I don’t think he’s actually fully conscious right now. ” 

_ Dear god…. _

“We still have the fever reducer in the first aid kit, right?”

“Yeah.” 

“I’ll be there in ten.” he hung up, tossing the phone on the passenger’s seat to grip the wheel with shaky hands. 

 

The front door banged open and slammed close as Victor rushed down the front hall, nearly sliding sideways in his haste as he turned the corner into the living room where Yuuri sat on the coffee table, squeezing the water out a rag before folding it and placing it gently on Yuri’s forehead.

“The fever came out of nowhere.” he could hear the anxiety in Yuuri’s voice. 

With every right to be. He didn’t know what he would have done if it were him...

“He was fine this morning.” Victor answered in agreement, worried eyes lingering on Yuri’s flushed face a moment longer before taking his phone out, tapping on the second number in his priority call list.. 

He answered on the third ring.

“Victor?” 

“Yakov. We’ve got a problem.” 

There was a beat of silence before Yakov answered. 

“What sort of problem?” he sounded concerned. 

“It’s Yura.” 

“What happened?” the tone merged fractionally into panic as memories of the past flitted around his head. Victor’s harder falls in his teens. The blackouts and hospital visits for overwork and dehydration. And of course, the terrifying moment when he’d found Victor unconscious  in a puddle of his own blood. So many blood pressure raising possibilities…

“He came back home with Yuuri and apparently he vomited, out of nowhere. And now he’d burning up. But he was fine this morning!” Victor’s voiced wavered towards the end. 

“Oh. is he sleeping right now?” the panic decreased marginally. 

“Yes.” 

“Good. Keep him warm and make sure he rests up. He’s going to be okay.” 

Victor paused, caught off guard by Yakov’s sudden relief. 

“It’s a psychogenic fever, Victor. You probably don’t remember, but you’ve had them before.” Yakov explained. 

Yuuri met Victor’s gaze curiously. 

“Take tomorrow off. If Yuri is anything like you, he’s going to try to come to practice tomorrow instead of resting. Make sure he stays put and _ rests _ .” 

“Are you sure?” Victor just couldn’t let go of the feeling of worry. 

“Very. I better not see any of you three at practice tomorrow.” There was an underlying tone of warmth in his serious order. 

“Okay. I’ll keep you updated.” 

Yakov ended the call with a grunt of agreement, leaving to stare at his phone.. 

“Psychogenic fever?” Yuuri asked. 

“Sometimes, when someone is put under a great deal of stress, their body temperature goes up into a fever. It had nothing to do with being sick, but it feels that way. That’s probably why he threw up.” 

Thinking about it, Victor realized that he actually did remember a time when he had it. Waking up in the back of an ambulance feeling light headed and cold from his blood loss while burning through what felt like a flu grade fever. Hot and cold all at once intermingled with stabs of white hot pain whenever the ambulance jolted over a particularly rough patch of road. 

The longer he mulled it over in his head, the more and more furious he felt, fanning the flame of rage that was growing slowly but steadily. 

What was worse was knowing just how unbothered and thick skinned Yuri tended to be in any circumstance, even through the worst. 

But to have felt so much anxiety and stress to a point of a fever, it had to have been massive. So massive but carried alone because he knew Yuri didn’t like being helped. 

He didn’t like it when he was younger and he still  _ definitely  _ didn’t like it now at eighteen. But he shouldn’t have had to in the first place, and Victor  _ hated  _ himself for it. He should have been there. Been more open. More prodding. More… aware. Because he knew Yuri wasn’t going to come to him of his own accord until it destroyed him. And even then he’d probably try to hide the pieces to fix things himself. 

Victor was startled out of his thoughts when he felt something warm on his cold hands. 

“Victor.” Yuuri squeezed his hand gently. 

“Look at me” his hands moved to cup Victor’s stoic face, staring resolutely into his guilty eyes. 

“You don’t get to blame yourself for this.” 

He felt his chest tighten. His heart hurt. 

“This has absolutely  _ nothing  _ to do with you, love.” 

He swallowed thickly, jaw setting as he worked to keep his emotions in check. 

“It wasn’t you. There was no way you’d have known this was going to happen. And I saw you today. Outright protecting Yuri. He needed someone and you were there for him and that’s what counts.” 

“I should have been more aware.” Victor’s voice broke at the end. He took a deep breath, outright ignoring the tell tale stinging in his eyes.

“ _ Christ.  _ I knew Yuri wouldn’t tell me. He never does. He likes to keep things hidden. I should have pushed harder. Pushed earlier. I was  _ so  _ close to finding out who it was. I even went to their rink to confront Kaprizov-” 

“You what?” Yuuri cut him off in shock. 

“I went to Kaprizov’s rink.” 

“But why?” 

And then it hit Victor that he hadn’t actually gotten to explain things to Yuuri. 

“The reason Yura had a breakdown today.” Yuuri nodded for him to continue. 

“He overheard the three junior skaters talking about how someone on Kaprizov’s team was the one who broke into Yura’s flat.”

“ _ Excuse  _ me?!’. 

“Apparently he was just benched for a little bit. According to them the coach was in on things as well as a few other players.” Victor exhaled slowly.

“He thought it meant that everyone on the team knew. And if the coach was okay with it, there would be no point in trying to catch the guy who did it. And if they don’t do anything about it, he could do it again. ”

“Did Kaprizov know?” Yuuri’s narrowed his eyes. 

“They left him out of the loop. He really didn’t know but everyone else knew.” 

“That’s not good..” 

Victor nodded. 

“He gave them a chance to fes up but no one did so he’d going to run them into the ground. He said no one was allowed to leave today”

“That’s good. So Kaprizov is trustable?’ 

“Yes. Now all we have to do is find the bastard... “ 

* * *

 

Yuri awoke to Victor quietly speaking with someone on the phone seated on the sofa across the coffee table from where he lay, still hazy and uncomfortably soaked in cold sweat with a godawful case of dry mouth but a lot less delirious than he had been when he got to Victor’s house. 

“And you’re sure it will work?” He sounded wary. 

There was a short pause before Victor spoke again. 

“Katsuki and I can take care of our end, that’s not what I’m worried about. We have absolutely no affiliation with the hockey team so if worst comes to worst we have the national figure skating federation to fall back on. But you’re actually on the team. I know you outrank everyone being the captain, but who’s to say they won’t come after you?” he listened, pausing longer this time. 

“I have time tomorrow. Mhm. That’s not a problem. Yakov gave us the day off tomorrow since Plisetsky is on house lockdown”

Victor grimaced. 

“Psychogenic fever. It happens sometimes when someone is put under an immense amount of pressure and stress. It’s like the body was tricked into thinking it has the flu or something like that so it burns up the internal temperature. Katsuki and I are monitoring him until tomorrow.”

Victor nodded 

“If we do, Yuuri and I can’t both go. One of us has to stay to make sure he’s alright.”

He quirked a brow. 

“I’m not opposed to it, if that works with you.”

Victor shifted on the sofa.

“You can join us for lunch. Okay. Yes. that works.”

Victor caught Yuri’s open eyes and did a double take, phone still held to his ear.

“We’ll see you tomorrow.” And with that he hung up, putting the phone down on the coffee table before looking back at Yuri. 

“You’re awake. Are you alright?” 

Yuri scrubbed roughly at his face to try to break through the lingering sluggishness of sleep before slowing sitting up.

“I feel like shit.” his voice was hoarse. 

Victor nodded to the coffee table where Yuuri had left a mug of water before he left for bed. He’d wanted to stay so that Victor could get some rest as well but they came to an agreement that Yura would probably feel more comfortable with Victor being the one he woke up to in the same room. 

Neither of them mentioned the way Yuri’s hand shook as brought the mug to his lips, drinking greedily to try to get rid of the awful cotton mouth and headache.

“You should get some more sleep.” 

“What time is it?” Yuri completely bypassed Victor’s question.

“Two.” 

Yuri’s eyes flitted to the window.

“In the morning, Yura.” Victor added gently. 

“So if you feel up to it, we’ve got the guest room all set so you can sleep on an actual bed.” 

“We’ve got practice in like four hours.” 

“No, we don’t. Yakov’s given us the day off tomorrow.” 

Yuri rolled his eyes. 

Victor held up a hand. 

“It’s mandatory. He’s not going to let any of us get past the rink’s doors.”

“That’s stupid. We’ve already wasted all that time with the good will clinic bullshit.”

Victor grimaced. 

“Which is what brought us here, Yura.” 

“What?” he recoiled. 

“The goodwill clinic, what do you remember?” 

“We had that god awful routine thing and I walked out and then I came back and everyone was gone.”

Victor’s grimaced morphed into a frown, brows drawing together in concern. 

“I’m being serious, Yuri. What do you remember?”

“Did I stutter? I’m telling you what I remember.” Yuri answered waspishly, not liking the growing concern in Victor’s eyes.

“ _ What _ ?!”

Victor leaned forward, giving Yuri a concerned once over before responding.

“So after everyone was gone, what happened?” 

“I don’t know! Probably practice? We’ve been doing the same thing this entire past two weeks. It just blurs.”

He looked away, missing the way Victor’s eyes widened in concern at the given answer. 

“Did you and Yuuri walk back after practice?” 

“No, you drove everyone back.”

“Oh…”

“You’re being weird. Why are you being weird?” Yuri demanded, arms crossing defensively across his chest.

“It’s the fatigue talking, Yura. You’re being paranoid.” Victor brushed it off with a small smile before standing, taking the empty cup in one hand. 

“Come on. I don’t want you sleeping on the sofa. You’ll be sore.” 

Yuri rolled his eyes at the light hearted concern but stood, a little shakily, but followed the man nonetheless. 

The made their way upstairs and down the hall to the familiar guest room which really was Yuri’s room most of the time. 

A pair of floppy brown ears perked up from the bed as Victor switched the light on.

“Makka! There you are!” the poodle jumped off the bed and pounced directly to Yuri who couldn’t help the small smile as his fingers ran through soft curls. 

“She’s been waiting for you to get to your room.” Victor chuckled, moving to close the curtains. 

“Don’t tell Yuuri but I’m not going to make you go back to bed if you don’t want to.” he gave the blonde a thumbs up.

“But the moment I hear you go  _ anywhere  _ near the front door or the back door or out the window I won’t hesitate to knock you out myself.” Yuri quirked a brow, silently challenging the man.

“Believe it or not, I have tranq darts that I stole from Yakov’s office.”

“Really..?”

Victor shrugged. “If we end up finding out, you’ll be off ice for two days instead of one.” he threatened with a smile before turning to walk out.

“Oh, and Yura.” he turned back.

‘Hm?”

“We’re having lunch at home.”

“Okay…?”

“We’re expecting a guest.”

Yuri shrugged. 

“Just wanted you to know.” he waved as he walked out, leaving Yuri to rest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any guesses as to what happened?


	6. Chapter 6

It was Makka’s excited barking that woke Yuri from the nap he didn’t remember that he had decided to take. The last thing he remembered was laying atop the plush duvet in the dark, mind whirring to try and remember just what it was that he felt like he was for sure forgetting. 

The cool stillness of the room help calm his ongoing headache, something he hoped would go away real soon before he’d have to raid the medicine cabinet. But it stuck around, seeming to latch on to the sense of uneasiness that had roared into life some time after Victor had left. 

Something was wrong. 

He was missing something… A memory? Something he was supposed to do? Something important. That much he knew. 

And before he knew it, he’d drifting back to sleep. 

He woke with a jolt, sitting up before wincing as the a wave of dizziness crashed over him protesting the sudden movement. 

He could hear Victor ushering someone in, shutting the door behind him. They moved away towards the living room where he could vaguely hear Katsuki greet the stranger who thanked the two for inviting him over. 

The wafting scent of lunch hit him belatedly, triggering a growl from his stomach who was urging him to go get food. 

But to do that he’d have to go downstairs and that meant that he’d have to meet the guest.

The thought of having to do so brought the weighted blanket of uneasiness  back full force. Something was weird about the whole situation, and he did  _ not  _ like it. 

But logically speaking, he knew that there wasn’t really tangible evidence to tie his uneasiness with the guest, but he felt it in his gut almost like muffled alarms. He could feel his heart sudden pick up speed as his hearing started muffling. 

An ice cold line streaked down his spin sending the hairs on his arms to stand, preparing him for the moment of fight or flight. Of what, he wasn’t sure but the uncomfortable twisting in his gut was starting to hurt. 

He was hyperventilating. 

Why was he hyperventilating?

Was it the bed or was he the one shaking? Why were his thoughts trying to rip themselves apart? Why did he feel his eyes start to sting? Was he crying? Why -   
And all at once there were three knocks and terrifying silence. 

“Yura? Are you awake?” 

“Yeah.” 

The door opened slowly as Victor peaked his head into the darkened room. 

“Are you-”

“I’m fine.” Yuri answered bluntly, snapping himself out of the dazed state he nearly spiraled into, brushing his fingers through his sleep frazzled hair into a neater ponytail, grabbing a hair tie off his wrist. 

Victor paused, opening the door wider to step halfway in.

He didn’t miss the noted way that the blonde was avoiding eye contact. 

He definitely didn’t miss the way shaky hands fumbled twice to wrap the elastic around the ponytail. 

But he could feel the discomfort in the silence as Yuri silently begged him to just let it go this time. 

So he nodded instead, waiting patiently as Yuri hauled himself off of the bed. 

“You know I do know the way to the dining room.” 

Victor shrugged it off with a small smile. 

“We have a guest.”

“I heard.” 

Victor stopped abruptly mid stair nearly causing Yuri to run straight into him. 

“What? What’s the problem?” Yuri hissed. 

Victor turned to face him. 

“What I said last night, about leaving if you want to…” 

Yuri quirked a brow. 

“I do mean it, Yura. No one’s going to hold it against you if you decide to just up and leave.” 

“What. Is it Giacometti or something?” he snarked.

“I can’t decide to stay or leave if you’re not going to let me see the person first.”

Victor nodded before resuming his flight down. 

They turned the corner into the hall before turning right into the kitchen connected dining room. 

“Oh good. You’re awake!” Yuuri turned in his seat. 

“How are you feeling?” 

But Yuri didn’t hear that part because the moment his brain processed exactly who it was sitting across from Yuuri at the dining room table, the ringing in his ears returned, muffling the sounds around him.

He stood rooted to the spot but he was positive the world was spinning. The ground  _ must  _ have been moving because he was a few seconds away from losing his balance. 

_ No.  _

_ Not again. _

“What.The.Fuck.”he bit out, eying the man with a mix of anger and fear. 

“He’s here to help.”

“Help who.” the distrust in his voice made it very clear he wasn’t pleased at the situation\, still rooted to the spot. 

“You. I’m here to help you.” Kaprizov answered quietly, tone equal parts apologetic and determined. 

“And I am so  _ so  _ sorry one of my boys did that to you. It’s disgusting and cowardly, but I honestly didn’t know until Nikiforov stormed in to our rink demanding answers.”

“They kept him out of the loop, and the coach didn’t bench the guy for that. Everyone who was benched were benched because they fought, so the coach doesn’t know either.” Victor added.

Yuri continued to stare darkly the Kaprizov who had the decency to look away. 

“But we’re going to figure out who it is from the inside so we don’t have to involve the police and your photo will be safe.” the man stated. 

There was a long pause before Victor pushed Yuri forward gently. 

“But for right now, food.”

* * *

 

It was nearly five they said their farewells. \

Kaprizov promised to keep everyone updated after the meeting he’d have tomorrow with the coach. 

So all they could do after that was wait, and Yuri did  _ not  _ like that. 

Hours upon hours of time for his mind to worry about how things were going to end up. He curled in closer to the sofa back as he mindlessly stared out of the window behind the sofa. 

He’d sat there for fifteen minutes before his brained flagged something. 

He waited a few minutes with moderate interest before he started to worry. 

He’d seen that car. 

He’d seen it pass the house five times, and things were starting to get sketchy. 

“Victor?” 

“Hmm? He answered nonchalantly from the other couch where he was responding to emails while Yuuri napped, head resting on Victor’s thighs. 

“That car drove by your house five times now.”

That definitely caught Victor’s attention as the man looked up. 

“What?”

“That car-” Yuri pointed to the retreating back of a black SUV.

“It’s passed five times in a row.”

“Yuuri. Love.” 

“Hmm?” Yuuri mumbled. 

“I need you to get up.”

That did the trick as Yuuri’s eyes fluttered open. He sat up, looking confused.

“What happened?” He said before yawning. 

“Nothing, but I need to see something.” he got up and walked over to the window to see the car take a right.

“We need to close all the curtains and blinds.” he ordered, tone still steady as he moved to shut all the curtains in the room. 

“Yuuri, can you get the upstairs ones?” 

Yuuri didn’t hesitate to make his way upstairs. 

Something wasn’t right. 

Meanwhile, Victor circled the downstairs, drawing every and all curtains close, double checking to make sure the front and back doors were locked before opening the storage closet, rummaging before pulling out what looked to be a steel baseball bat. 

Yuuri rushed downstairs, meeting Victor in the hall. 

“What’s going on?” Eyes flicking warily to the bat in Victor’s hand. 

“Love, I need you to stay calm, okay?”

Yuuri nodded in confusion. 

“Yuri noticed a car passing our house five times in a row.”

_ Oh… _

The pieces were starting to fall into place. 

“Are we-are you saying-”

Victor nodded. 

We’re being watched.

 


	7. Chapter 7

“Yes, hello?”

“Kaprizov, where are you right now?” Victor didn’t beat around the bush, putting the man on speaker, holding it up so Yuuri could hear as well..

Something the other man picked up on immediately.

“At the rink. Practice starts in ten.” the ‘why?’ went unspoken.

“Is everyone there?”

Victor unconsciously held his breath at the pause.

“We’re missing about eight of our total twenty right now, but a few of them are always late.”

 _“Shit…”_ he swallowed thickly.

“Nikiforov?” the man prompted at the sudden silence on the other end.

“You’re sure of this? Eight are somewhere that isn’t the rink?”

“What happened…?” Kaprizov’s tone changed on the other end from polite neutrality to growing apprehension. If he guessed that something was wrong when he first picked up, he knew for sure now from the panicked edge of Nikiforov’s forced calm.  

Something was very _very_ wrong and in all honesty, half of him didn’t want to know. Half of him wanted to just hang up right there and then so he wouldn’t _have_ to know. Because the moment he found out about whatever it was that had the calm and collected man he had met prior, noticeably shaken was probably not something pleasant. And the only really not pleasant thing they had in common was the hockey team.

 _His_ team.

And while they were technically looking for a player on said team, the others were accessories to crime at the current point.

“There’s a black SUV circling our building right now.”

Victor heard Kaprizov inhale sharply.

“Yura noticed it first. This is probably its seventh time circling.”

Both men jolted as Kaprizov broke the silence on the other end.

“For _fuck’s sake_!” the sudden and abrasive shout was followed by something shattering which in turn was followed by Kaprizov’s explicit laced order for everyone present to get on the ice.

Victor and Yuuri heard the hurried commotion to oblige.

“Give me a moment,” Kaprizov muttered, stretching the silence out for a few seconds before coming back.

“I don’t know what kind of fucking game you all think you’re playing, but I am _done_ with this bullshit. So I’m going to make one thing very clear. I don’t give a flying fuck about who you like and dislike. But, what I do care about is the fact that your masculinity is so goddamn fragile that you have to put other athletes down to feel like a man. I don't know why I have to remind anyone, but apparently, it's slipped your minds. This is the Russian  _national_ team. We're  _athletes_ not fucking gang  _thugs_.”

He let things sink in, scrubbing a frustrated hand down his face. He took a deep breath to center himself.

“Of all of the athletes you could have picked a fight with…” it was muttered but still carried.

“Do any of you actually know who it is you’re messing with?”

No one said a word.

“Plisetsky? Nikiforov? Both core members of the Russian national team. Consecutive global competition winners. Nikiforov alone is currently ranked number one. Plisetsky is climbing up from the top five, and that’s only skimming the top of an _extensive_ list.” His eyes flashed, dangerously close to seeing red.

“Do you know where we rank? As a team, we’re eighth. Individually? No one’s passed the top ten. We’re expendable. They’re not. So when the dust settles from this absolute shit show, being outed isn’t going to change Plisetsky’s rank or his spot on the national team. He has the figure skating union behind him. Kid hasn't even hit his prime. We, on the other hand, we’re going to be cut and replaced. So keep that in mind this week because as of five minutes ago, an internal, rink-wide investigation has opened. No one leaves the ice until _everyone_ arrives.” and with that he shut the rink door locking it from the outside, returning the phone to his ear as he moved around the rink, latching and locking the rest of the doors.

“Do you still see the car?”

“It just turned the corner. I’ve called Yakov. He’s on his way.”

“I can’t leave right now so I’ll send Chugunkin your way. This is getting dangerous. We won’t be able to keep it internal for much longer.”

“We’ll have to stretch to cover for as long as we can. So for now, we’ll stick with the coaches. No law enforcement.” Victor demanded.

“Stay safe, Nikiforov.” Kaprizov stated in agreement.

“You as well, Kaprizov. Watch your back.”

  

  
  



	8. Chapter 8

Yakov was waiting for Chugunkin outside the rink in his car that was idling in the darkened parking lot when the hockey coach sped through the lot.

They made brief eye contact before Yakov took the lead, speeding out with Chugunkin following close behind. 

The call Kaprizov had given him had been rushed and somewhat panicked which didn’t sit well with the hockey coach. No matter how stoic he may seem, the fact that the usually consistent and good natured captain had called him out of nowhere panicked had him on edge. 

That and the snippets of conversations he’d heard from the lower level players about the apparent  _ emotional meltdowns _ Kaprizov had had in the past few days after the sportmanship clinic didn’t help. 

He’d never personally seen the captain react in pure anger before. At least, off of the ice. Spats on ice were norm, but from what he’d heard, it transcended even those moments. Something about sticks being broken and excessive cursing. The fact that Kaprizov had seemingly gotten to a point of exploding at the team but hesitated to inform him of anything up until a few minutes prior had him genuinely worried. 

But Yakov seemed to be in a similar situation, looking far more worried than Chugunkin had ever seen from the brief moments they’d met in the past years. 

They sped on along the darkening roads lit up by the stores and markets on the sides. They had just barely missed the rush hour traffic, making good time around the city until they turned into a more quiet street, slowing down until Yakov turned his right blinker on, signaling for Chugunkin to park behind where the man had parallel parked before cutting the engine and stepping out, slamming the door behind him. 

He waited for the hockey coach to do the same. 

“How much do you know?” Yakov asked, brusquely making his way to the front door of the tidy looking freestanding home.

“Not much.” 

“We’re on the same boat, then.” he knocked brusquely. 

“I don’t like this. This cloak and dagger mess.” Chugunkin muttered darkly. 

Yakov didn’t get to answer as the door creaked open marginally. 

Neither coaches missed the metallic glint of what could only be a baseball bat Victor held in one hand, as the other wrapped around the door handle. 

The silence was punctuated by a rush of claws on hardwood followed by several barks.

“Come in.” Victor opened the door wider, keeping Makka at bay with a long leg. 

The two rushed in with one last look back at the dark street before Victor shut the door firmly behind him, making sure to redo all of the locks. 

“What’s happening, Vitya?” Yakov didn’t miss the nervous way Victor was tapping the bat against his leg, looking more than a little wound up. 

“I’ll tell you everything in a moment-” his eyes flicked behind Yakov as Yuri stalked silently out of the living room, nodding to Yakov. 

Yuuri followed close behind, phone in hand as he looked past the two to Victor who shook his head. 

“But first things first, is Kaprizov alright?” he turned to face Chugunkin who looked beyond bemused. 

“He’s at the rink right now. I spoke to him about twenty minutes ago.”

Victor’s jaw clenched as he took in the vague answer, pulling out his phone before speed dialing the other skater. 

It was a nerve wracking four rings before Kaprizov picked up. 

“Are you okay?” 

Victor answered in an affirmative grunt. 

“Chugunkin and Yakov have arrived. I’m going to tell them.” 

“Tell them everything. We need all of the security we can get at this point.” 

“Are you safe?” Victor asked shortly, small knots forming in his gut at the sudden pause. 

“We’re still missing six. Two of them showed up a few minutes ago.” 

“Six?” Victor put Kaprizov on speaker, glancing up at Chugunkin. 

“Ivashov, Vasnekin, Petrushkin, Solokov, Mishin, and Alexin.” 

Chugunkin’s eyes narrowed at the sudden list. 

Victor paused a second before gesturing for the two men to follow him into the living room. 

“Let me know if any of them show. The car took a turn three minutes ago and hasn’t come back yet. They might have left for good.” Victor took a seat on the loveseat, gesturing for Yakov and Chugunkin to take a seat in the sofa across. 

Victor started without further conversation. 

“Two days ago, Yuri’s flat was broken into.” Yuri took a seat on the arm of the sofa beside Yuuri who offered Yuri a cushion, turning slightly to make sure the curtains were indeed shut all the way. 

“The morning of the sportsmanship clinic. He lives a good distance from here but he walked over around four in the morning.” 

Yakov frowned in concern. 

“It wasn’t just a simple home theft breaking and entering. It was deliberate.” 

Chugunkin’s brows furrowed but he sat in silence for Victor to continue. 

“There was a photo taped to the outside of his front door.” 

“A photo?” Chugunkin glanced between Yuri and Victor in confusion, trying to piece the importance together. 

“One that was taken in the last international competition. Without Yuri’s knowledge.” 

Victor reached over and tapped Yuri’s knee, communicating via facial expressions before Yuri sighed, looking  _ clearly  _ unhappy at the situation as a whole. He reached in his hoodie pocket and pulled out what looked to be a folded sheet of printer paper before handing it warily over to Victor who nodded in thanks before he unfolded it.

He passed it wordlessly over to Chugunkin who took it, face neutral as he took in the photo. 

_ Oh…  _

“Okay.” he nodded, putting the photo gently on the coffee table before looking back up at Victor for an explanation.

“We had no idea who it was until the end of the sportmanship clinic.” 

Yakov’s brows shot up. 

“You know who it is?” 

“Not exactly.” Victor shook his head. 

“But Yuri overheard the three junior skaters talk about how someone on the team had apparently discussed the whole incident with whoever it was that had done it. I thought he’d heard the name of the actual person but that guy checked out. ” 

“Team? Someone on  _ my  _ team?” Chugunkin frowned. 

All three skaters nodded. 

“Someone on the hockey team directly targeted Yuri because of that photo.” Victor gestured to the photo. 

“You’re positive about this?” Chugunkin asked, neutral fascade falling ever so slightly in confused worry. 

“They’re keeping things under wraps. Kaprizov didn’t find out until after the clinic when I went to see him face to face.” 

“Kaprizov didn’t know?” 

Victor shook his head. 

“The way the junior skaters were talking about it made it seem like everyone knew, including yourself and Kaprizov but we found out that the team has been keeping the whole thing from you two.”

They could see Chugunkin’s jaw working as he processed the heavy information that had just been relayed. 

Anger.

Betrayal.

Disappointment. 

But most importantly, worry. 

He knew what those boys were capable of. He’d seen more than his fair share of on ice fights. 

Seen to what extent they were comfortable going to.

And in the most unfortunate way, he couldn’t say he couldn’t see his boys doing something like this. Taking things  _ far  _ too far.

“What we do know is that whoever it is has been given a one game suspension.”

“ _ Fuck. _ ” Chugunkin hissed as things clicked in to place.

There was a tense beat of silence before Victor inhaled slowly, fiddling semiconsciously with his nails before he made eye contact with Chugunkin. 

“Six.” he stated in a hushed voice. 

“Ivashov, Vasnekin, Petrushkin, Solokov, Mishin, and Alexin.” he counted off softly, willing himself to keep calm. 

Chugunkin could only nod as the full gravity of the situation hit. It hit  _ hard. _

_ No. no no no. _

The sudden tense silence was broken as all eyes landed on Victor’s phone that had started to ring. 

He didn’t even need to check the caller ID before answering. 

“Hel-”

“Victor. We’ve got a problem.”

_ shit... _

 

  
  



	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Graphic depictions of violence my dudes.   
> Beware!

Chugunkin didn’t even wait for Victor to elaborate. The glint of terror in his sky blue eyes. The way they widened in surprise. How his gaze rested a millisecond  _ too  _ long on the hockey coach. 

He knew, and he wasted no time in racing to the door, fumbling with the locks before nearly throwing himself out the door to his car. 

“Nikiforov. Listen to me. We need to call the-” Victor sucked in a sharp breath as he heard a sudden commotion on the other end. 

“Kaprizov?” 

“ _ Shit.”  _

And then his blood ran cold as he heard the unmistakable crack of a gunshot.   

“Kaprizov!” 

“ _ Shit.shit.shit.  _ Call-” he ripped the phone away from his ear at the sudden loud crack that resounded too close for comfort. 

Even Yakov had heard, and within the second he had his phone out and already dialed Chugunkin who picked up immediately, much to everyone’s relief. 

“Something is happening over at your rink. Kaprizov called and we heard gunshots,” he explained, freehand balling into a fist. 

“Is he okay?!” 

Chugunkin didn’t get a response.. 

“Who is this?” Victor’s brows were furrowed in angry confusion. 

His tone was eerily frigid. 

Yakov nudged the man to put the phone on speaker, which was immediately obeyed. 

“Hmm... Wouldn’t you like to know.”  

“What the fuck are you playing at?” Victor demanded angrily.

“Now now, Mr. Nikiforov. That doesn’t sound very graceful to me. From what I hear you’re the epitome of grace on ice. Or something like that.” no one missed the sarcastic scoff. 

“Lucky for you, I’d say I’m pretty graceful as well. No… Not graceful. That’s just.. Just disgusting. You’re a  _ man  _ Nikiforov. Prancing around in those tights like some twinkle toe bitch.” every word was enunciated with vitriol. 

“Grace.” the mystery man scoffed again. “You’re trash.” there was so much hatred in his tone, and if Victor was being honest, he could feel the knot of worry in his gut start to tangle even more, embroidering itself with shards of glass. 

“You and your  _ husband”  _ the man spat. Yuuri stiffened. 

“And your little protege. Plisetsky. He has the attitude for  _ so  _ many other proper sports. Walks like one of us. Curses like one of us. I bet he can drink like us men too. But the little  _ faggot  _ decides he wants to be an ice  _ princess _ ?!” And that’s when Victor realized something chilling as he stared worriedly at Yuri who looked the least aggressive he ever looked almost shrinking into himself at the hateful words. Something that had his legs turning to jelly. 

The man was slurring his words. 

He was drunk.

Drunk and most likely with a gun. 

“Where is Kaprizov?” he demanded, trying his best to hold back the panic that was churning in his stomach as his brain subconsciously came up with horrifying possibilities as to why Kaprizov was no longer on the phone. 

He couldn’t get the picture of blood on the rink boards out of his mind…

“Kaprizov?” 

“Yes. Kaprizov. Your captain.” 

The man chuckled darkly. 

No one got to prepare themselves for the sudden gunshot followed by a blood curdling scream that punctuated the other end.

They could hear Kaprizov’s near hysterical breathing, and if Victor was correct, nails grasping for purchase on the metal rink bleachers, hissing curses. 

“He’s still here. But probably not for long.” the casualness of the man’s tone did nothing to calm Victor’s frazzled nerves. 

“But that’s on you.” everyone froze. 

“Maybe he’ll live. Maybe he won’t. But he for sure would have if you piece of shits kept your mouths closed.  _ Snitches. _ ” 

Yuuri met Victor’s gaze, shaking his head. 

No one had contacted  _ anyone  _ about the matter. 

Yakov’s furrowed brows of confusion exonerated him as well, giving him time to turn and bring his phone back to his ear. 

“What is he talking about?!” he hissed. 

“I don’t know! There was an accident. I’m still on the road.” Chugunkin answered in irritation. 

“I’ve been on the line. Haven’t called anyone else.” he added gruffly. 

“If it wasn’t us and it wasn’t him then who else can it be?” Yuri hissed, looking exhausted. 

“Did you really think that the police can help you? You think they will?” the man sneered. 

They heard Kaprizov grunt in pain under the metallic creaking of what was most likely the bench the mystery man had been sitting on.  

“More importantly” he grunted a moment, taking in a deep breath. Kaprizov’s hiss of pain wasn’t missed. 

“You think he’s gonna survive the blood loss? We’re gonna go on a little trip and I dunno if our  _ captain  _ here is gonna make it.” there was a touch of maddened glee that had everyone on edge. 

“Let him go,” Victor demanded through clenched teeth. 

There was no way he was going to let the man die under his watch. 

“Oh, believe me. I will. Just not yet.” and with that, the line cut. 

“-ve. Yakov!” the man jolted out of the haze of shock to put his phone on speaker. 

“I’m here. Have you made it?” he asked apprehensively, glancing back at the phone still in Victor’s hand. The one Victor was still staring at before looking back to his own phone. 

“No, but I’m close. Not even five minutes away.” 

Something wasn’t right…

“But I think I know who the mystery caller is.” 

That snapped Victor out if it  _ immediately _ .

“If I’m right, he’s not technically on the team. But he’s connected.” 

They heard the steady sound of cars on the road as Chugunkin paused momentarily. Choosing his next words with care.

“He’s not on the team, but-Nikiforov.” 

“Yes?” Victor didn’t like the flow of this conversation. Something was wrong. So  _ so  _ very wrong. 

“You… You know him. He-” the rest of Chugunkin’s answer was cut off by a sudden gut wrenching, blood curdling sound of windows shattering, mix together with the sound of metal crunching in what was unmistakably a car on car collision. 

There was a terrible beat of silence and then screams from pedestrians no doubt. 

“Chugunkin! Chugunkin!? Answer goddamnit!” Yakov roared. 

They heard a new voice tell them goodbye before the end dial tone reached their ears, leaving the group in terrified silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit has hit the fan, people. Things are gonna get super turbulent/graphic/gruesome from here!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sort of filler chapter for the action to come!  
> Chapter song: 어둠속으로|Into Darkness (호텔작전|Operation Hotel)

“I am drawing the line. We call the police and we call them  **NOW** !” Yakov shouted, nearly blue in the face as Victor stood his ground. 

But the ground was shifting and he wasn’t sure how much longer he would be able to keep up before he fell. 

“These are  _ national  _ athletes, Yakov. If there’s corruption this high up there has to be a ladder, and you  _ know  _ the track record between athletes and the police!”

“Yes but this isn’t just some low level athlete on athlete crime anymore! Kaprizov is missing now and Chugunkin-he-the man might be dead for all we know! Vitya, we can’t go about this in the dark anymore.” Yakov met Victor’s worried eyes straight on, pleading silently with the man to just  _ listen  _ for once.

They stared in silence for a few moments longer before Victor huffed a disapproving affirmation, conceding to Yakov’s orders, obviously disgruntled about the situation as well. He caught sight of the other two whose faces looked pinched in steadily growing trepidation at the sudden overwhelming series of events.

“But-” it was barely above a whisper but,  there was an underlying sharpness to his words, like getting cut with a razor blade.

_ Beep. Beep beep. Beep… _

He didn’t get to finish his exception, getting cut off by the shrilly alert tone from the phone in his hand. He did a double take as his brain registered just who exactly it was that was calling.  He wasted no time in lifting the glowing screen so that Yakov could see as well. 

The mood and temperature dropped considerably as the two locked eyes, seemingly ignoring the call debating on what on  _ earth  _ this was.

“Answer it, Vitya.” Yakov ordered solemnly, not taking his eyes off of the screen that continued to glow as the called continued to wait.

Victor hesitated a second before pressing the green call button and then the speaker button. 

“Kaprizov?”

“Obviously not.” there was a dry chuckle on the other end. 

“And I’m going to cut you off before you say something cliche like  _ who the fuck are you _ ?-” The mystery speaker mimicked obnoxiously

“Cause from what he looks like right now, you don’t really have much time left.” 

A wave of ice cold fear ran down his spine. 

“He’s going to bleed out!” Victor hissed, getting louder. 

“He definitely will.” The man agreed. 

“Which is why you need to get yourself over to where the oh-so-  _ wonderful _ captain is.” 

“We can’t go if you don’t tell us where.” Victor took a deep breath trying to keep calm. Freaking out would do nothing to help the absolutely fubar situation, especially if the person they were dealing with happened to be as trigger happy and sadistic as he seemed to be. 

“Well, that would ruin all the fun. Especially now that I get to make your acquaintance again after so long.”

All eyes turned to stare at Victor who was reeling, eyes wide in confused and panicked desperation, mouth suddenly going dry. He racked his brain, distraught at the fact that he just  _ couldn’t  _ place the voice to any time in his memories. 

“It’s okay if you don’t remember. It’s been, what, ten-fifteen years? But I’m genuinely so excited to have gotten back into contact with you! ”

“Why?” the disdain was cutting. 

 “Why what?” 

“Why are you excited? I apparently don’t even remember you, let alone like you.”

“Ouch... “ the other line hissed in mock hurt. 

“I guess that’s okay too. I mean, I guess you do have a reason to keep your distance. But I promise that’s gonna change real soon.”

Victor narrowed his eyes. 

“But I’ll have to explain that to you later cause I think Kaprizov just passed out. He’s gonna get hypothermia if someone doesn’t save him.”

And before anyone could reply, the line when dead plunging the living room in heavy chiling silence.

“Shit.  _ shit _ !” Victor barked, leaning heavily on the side of the sofa before lowering himself slowly to the floor with his knees tucked in. He ran a shaking hand through his hair in agitation. 

_ Think. Think.  _ **_Think_ ** _ godamn it! _

No one said a word edgewise, all trapped in their individual bubbles of shock. 

“What does that even mean?! It’s the middle of january. He could be  _ anywh- _ ”

He nearly hit his head against the wall when he suddenly jerked his head up, eyes wide in obvious surprise. 

“Oh.  _ Oh _ ! I-we’ve got to go, right now!” he didn’t wait to give any further explanation, hauling the confused and equally concerned trio towards the front door. 

“Hello? Yes. I need an ambulance to St. Petersburg’s Sports Training Complex.” he requested, shoving everyone out before shutting and locking the door behind him in hurry. 

“There’s an injured athlete who needs immediate medical attention. Yes. Yes. He’s bleeding out.” 

Victor grabbed the back of Yuri’s jacket, gently pulling him to his own car while Yuuri rode shotgun with Yakov. They’d have to split. There was no way Victor or Yakov would allow everyone in one car. It was too much of a liability.  

“Wait for me outside the rink! If we’re going in we’re sure as hell going in together.” Yakov ordered Victor who nodded before pulling his door shut.

And once everyone was buckled, they sped off recklessly into the night..  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for the chapters after this one:   
> Things are gonna get real gruesome and bloody so continue at your own risk!


	11. Chapter 11

“You carry a bat in your trunk?” Yuri quirked a brow, breaking momentarily from the growing nervousness as they stood mere feet from the glass front doors. 

“Amongst other things, yes.” Victor answered a little distractedly,  shutting the trunk with a solid  **_thunk._ **

“Good to know you still keep that around” he turned to Yakov who shrugged, slightly rusted and bulky tire iron peeking out from the man’s back.  

“It’s been a useful thing to have around.” the older answered nonchalantly. 

Yuri just stared, looking between the two in undisguised suspicion. 

“Everyone knows what they’re supposed to do?” Yakov barked, glancing to the darkened building. 

“Wait for the ambulance and possibly the cops.” Yuuri answered, nodded. 

“They’re going to ask all sorts of questions.” Victor stated, staring pointedly at Yuri who scowled, hands sinking deeper into his hoodie pocket, fingers wrapping and unwrapping around the stainless steel,  _ very  _ sharp switchblade Victor had rummaged from out of his glove compartment on the way over. He’d pressed it into the younger’s hands with the expressed order of keeping it out of view until  _ absolutely  _ necessary. 

The fact that Victor had such a thing just sitting around in his car threw him for a loop. 

How many times had he ridden shotgun in that very car, completely oblivious to all of the ‘ _ useful _ ’ things inside?

“Don’t say anything without Yuuri nearby. And Yuuri, love. Christophe is online right now. He’s going to be our inbetween. If things start going south, you know the safeword” 

“Bronze.” 

Victor nodded before turning to Yuri.

“Devils.” 

He nodded once more. 

“The moment he hears either words he’s going to send us an alert.” he gestured between Yakov and himself. 

“And we’ll be out ASAP. But if for whatever reason we don’t get out fast enough and you two are in  _ immediate  _ danger, please  _ please  _ try to keep the blood to a minimum. There are eyes everywhere around here.” 

Everyone nodded. 

“And stay under the lights until the ambulance comes. There are two cameras pointing from the front door and you’ll stay in frame as long as you keep within a five foot radius of the front door handles.” 

“I’m going to assume you know this from experience?” Yuuri asked dryly. 

There was a quick quirk of his mouth and a telling shrug as Victor allowed himself a second of amusement before getting back to the grim present situation, nodding to a grave looking Yakov who gripped the tire iron just a little tighter.

“Alright. Let’s go.” 

* * *

 

They entered the darkened sports complex, moving quickly and quietly partially from muscle memory towards the back of the building to where the rink was located. 

It was so cold they could see their breaths in the air as they came upon spots of light through industrial style windows that poured in as much moonlight on the cement floor as they could, illuminating their paths, disappearing and reappearing the closer to the rink they got. 

“They’ve cut the main generator.” Yakov muttered quietly, looking out behind them. 

“What about the ice?” Victor responded, picking up his pace at the sudden statement.  

“The rink is run on a separate system altogether for situations like this.” 

“The rink lights?” 

Yakov shook his head. 

“They’re on the main generator as well.” 

“ _ Shit… _ ” Victor hissed, slowly rounding a corner, holding the steel bat at the ready in both hands. Yakov followed by his side, holding the tire iron at ready as well. 

“We’ll go through the locker room entrance. It doesn’t have card access. It won’t be locked down” Yakov ordered, leading them down yet another familiar hallway. 

Ten paces down and two to the left. How many times had he made the trek to the rink this way?

Victor shook his head at the sudden intruding thought. Now was  _ not  _ the time to reminisce. The past was the past but they were in the present. Very presently in danger, walking into a possible ambush without any suitable backup or plan B.

They rushed through the pitch black windowless locker room illuminated by their phone’s flashlight, casting an eerie glow around the cold empty locker room. 

“Out the locker room and around the length of the rink. We’ll leave out of the coach’s box.” Yakov ordered, unlocking the door to the rink. 

“I’m right behind you.” Victor let him know, tapping the man on the elbow. 

“Alright. Let’s go.” 

* * *

 

“Yuri?” 

“What?” 

The blonde glanced over before following the older’s line of sight. 

“The police in Russia-”  

Gears began turning, catching speed as he started to connect the dots. The picture wasn’t looking too great.

“Yeah?” 

“They drive police cars, right?” 

Yuuri didn’t meet the younger’s agitated gaze, still looking out towards the big road just outside of the rink’s parking lot. 

“Yes.” there was no biting sarcasm. 

“All of them?” Yuri recoiled fractionally as he met a pair of equally agitated eyes.  

“Yes…?” 

Yuuri had his phone out without a second of hesitation, fingers flying across the screen as he unlocked it and pressed the icon for instagram, only to freeze, fingers stopping mid air before he turned to Yuri. 

“There’s no service.” 

The blonde’s eyes widened in shock as he scrambled to take his phone out as well, missing the way Yuuri’s gaze returned to the road. 

“Shit! No. There’s always service here! We’re on the approved list for the wifi too. What the hell?!”

He nearly dropped his phone completely, almost falling, fumbling over his feet as Yuuri latched on to Yuri’s arm with an iron grip and started to the door. 

“We need to get inside. Right now.” 

Yuri didn’t argue, righting himself as he ran beside the raven haired skater who looked on the verge of a panic attack. 

“This isn’t part of the plan!” 

“Neither are those-whoever they are!” Yuri chanced a look back just in time to see three big black SUVs make a turn towards the rink. They had their floodlights on and were coming  _ far  _ too fast to be legal. 

He picked up a burst of speed, nearly tripping as he lead the other skater down the halls towards the rink. 

“Why is everything off?” Yuuri whispered offhandedly, throwing the younger into a momentary state of confusion.

He glanced around, taking in the building around him. 

“Shit. the main power’s dead.” Yuri threw the door open.

“Hurry up, and keep your light down once we get into the rink.” 

Yuuri grunted an affirmative, swiftly following the blonde into the rink. 

* * *

 

Victor nearly had a heart attack the moment Yakov’s light illuminated just who it was he almost swung at with his steel bat. 

“Yura?!” he felt his knees go limp, hand over his racing heart as he took in the wide eyed look of terror on the blonde’s face as he threw his arms in front of his face last minute, bracing for the blow that never hit. 

“ _ Christ _ .” he hissed, looking between the two that seemingly popped out of nowhere behind them mid way through to the coach’s box exit. .

“We need to get out. Right now.” Yuuri put a hand on Victor’s arm. 

“There were three black SUVs headed towards the complex before we came in, Vitya. They looked like that car that was circling back home.” 

“ _ Shit _ .” Victor sucked in a sharp breath. 

“Come to think of it, we didn’t hear a single ambulance. Not even far away. They should have been here by now.” Yuri slowly recoiled, putting his arms down as he met Victor and Yakov’s stricken faces. 

“No ambulance, power outage” Yakov muttered. 

“ _ And  _ no show police? I don’t like this.” he continued, jaw working against the mounting dread. 

“Alright. Okay. Everything else, we can deal with later. For now we continue with the plan.” Yakov nodded towards the box not too far away. 

“Out the coach’s box to the back practice rooms and out the back door. There’s that small park a few minutes away that leads to that bar alley. If we make it over we can slip into one of those bars and stay low until the morning.” the man continued. 

Everyone nodded in agreement, following behind the suddenly tougher looking coach with ice in his eyes. 

He had for  _ sure _ seen some shit…. 

They crept quietly towards the box, sticking close to the boards with their lights on low. 

Victor was the first one to enter the box that Yakov had unlocked, holding it open, looking back to make sure the other two were still following before swiveling his sight back in front of him. He nearly screamed, covering his mouth tightly with both hands as he jolted back into Yuri who just  _ barely  _ managed to catch the man. 

But before he could say anything at all, the rink burst into  _ too bright  _ light as all of the rink flood lights came on at once illuminating the gruesome scene Victor had nearly walked on top of. 

If it were in any other situation the scene may have actually been comical.It looked like the man had tried to fit himself into a too small tub and only succeeded in getting half his legs in, as everything below his kneecap hung out of the box. His torso hung limp against the metal bleacher, wrists tied together with what looked to  be fishing wire which was then tied to the bleacher’s base, probably having kept the man from escaping which meant he’d been conscious when whoever it was put him in the impromptu ice bath. The very one that was turning an alarming shade of pink from the melting ice and the blood that was draining sluggishly out of the man’s right thigh. 

And all at once, memories of that vicious night nearly seventeen years ago came back hitting Victor full force. So hard that he didn’t even register the solid thunk of something metallic hit somewhere beside where he sat hunched, eyes squeezed shut trying to snap himself out of the oncoming panic attack. 

And the lights cut off all at once, leading the group to what a small voice in Victor’s head prompted was most likely death. 

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's gonna start getting real bloody/violent/gruesome from this chapter!   
> Brace yourselves.

It was a steady dripping sound that gave Yuri the push he needed to escape the dark chasm of unconsciousness. A very cold  _ very  _ uncomfortable unconsciousness if he were being honest. But honesty wasn’t exactly on the top of his list of important things at the moment. 

More so the fact that he had woken strapped to what looked to be a cold metal chair. The kind they used during interrogations during those ridiculous action movies. 

The movies that were looking less and less ridiculous as he took in more and more of his current surroundings. 

Concrete floors with messy brick walls covered in what looked to be plaster haphazardly scrapped on.

There wasn’t any sort of window like thing that could probably be two way. No metal table to match the metal chair. But there  _ was  _ a metal door, most likely locked. And a  _ too  _ bright bulb hanging somewhere above his head, throwing odd shadows on the walls. 

And it was  _ freezing. _

_ ‘Shit. shit. Shit!’  _

He couldn’t help the sudden fit of panicked struggling that came over him as he tried against the tight ropes around his arms and legs, pinning him to the chair. 

It was no use. He was stuck. 

And then the events prior came flooding back, chasing away any residual fogginess, sending his heart beating hard; almost painfully. His head started to swim at the sudden increase in blood pressure, probably exacerbated by the fact that he had most likely been sitting there for a while before he woke up. 

All in all, things were not looking good, and with Victor, Katsuki,  _ and  _ Yakov out of sight god knows where, he couldn’t completely abandon the idea that they in all actuality, may not actually be...alive. 

Even entertaining the thought send icy waves down his spine, ushering waves of nausea along with it. 

‘ _ Shut up. Shut UP! They’re alive!’  _ he argued intensely with the small voice of doubt that had latched on. He almost didn’t hear the door open. 

_ Almost…  _

“You’re awake I see. Thought you weren’t gonna make it to be honest.” the man addressed Yuri as he quietly closed the door behind him with a click of a deadbolt. 

Yuri’s frantic eyes didn’t leave the copper haired man who paced closer, hands held behind his back. He wore black joggers and a loose grey RUSSIA hoodie like the ones they sold in those souvenir shops. If it were any other situation, Yuri would have thought the man was an athlete going by the muscled build and the well worn sneakers. But right now he was a potential criminal who had unfinished business with Yuri. 

There was no other reason as to why he was in this very room to begin with. 

“Where’s Yakov?” he hissed through his teeth, grimacing at the raspiness. 

“It’s the gas. Gives you dry mouth. And throat. It should go away soon” the man shrugged, completely ignoring the question. 

“I said; where’-” 

“Yakov? Is he… Hmm.. Was he the old guy? Balding kinda?” 

Yuri nodded brusquely, eyes narrowing. Something about this wasn’t right. Was it the man’s tone? 

No… 

Body language? 

No…

“Oh. He’s gone. Heard they dumped him in the zamboni.”   

The man padded closer toYuri, crouching to make eye contact. 

_ Oh…  _

It was his eyes. The dead  _ dead  _ blues eerily similar in color to Victor’s own. 

It brought the  goosebumps and Yuri jolted, struggling like a distraught cat who’d been spooked. 

The man grabbed the chair’s arms, dragging it closer to him in one fluid movement all the while staring unnervingly at Yuri who tried his best to avoid the chilling blues as he continued to struggle. 

“Hey now. You’ve just woken up. The gas isn’t completely out of your system yet. Stop that before you hurt yourself!” the man grabbed Yuri’s arms in unexpected gentleness, trying to get the blonde to stop squirming against the ropes that were starting to cut into skin. 

“Hey!”     __

“Let go of me! Let g-” 

“I said, stop!” the sharp slap reverberated around the room, drowned out to a sudden shrill ringing in Yuri’s shocked ear. 

He couldn’t breathe…

“I won’t tell you again.”  the man’s voice sounded almost… guilty?

“And besides, if he hears that you aren’t following instructions he’s gonna bring in that other guy and then  _ both  _ of you are gonna get hurt.” 

That brought Yuri’s heart to a chilling stand still. It was like his lungs had deflated and weren’t capable of reinflating again. 

“W-who...?” he tried, begging his panicked mind to keep together for fucksake. Now was  _ not  _ the time to lose it.

“The guy with the black hair, and blue glasses” 

Yuri’s gut dropped as terrifying implications popped up in his mind. It wasn’t Victor… It was Katsuki. And if the guy was part of the whole situation to begin with, that meant he was with people who had no qualms of straight up murdering high profile individuals. Which meant that there was definitely a chance, be it high or low, that Victor was dead as well. 

Why else would they use  _ Katsuki  _ of all people against him?

He took a deep stuttering breath before continuing, willing his mind to just drown the chaos of emotions he was feeling. He needed answers, and that meant he had to be rational. 

“Where’s Victor?” 

“Nikiforov?” 

Yuri didn’t have to answer. 

Of fucking  _ course  _ he meant Victor Nikiforov. Who else was there at the rink? 

“He’s still at the rink.” the man paused a moment, looking thoughtfully into space. 

“Actually, more like, he’s on the rink.” 

Yuri didn’t know how to respond, brain short circuiting at the weirdly vague explanation. 

“He’s alive. At least for now.” the man stood, stretching a moment before bringing his dead eyes back on Yuri. 

“But that’s enough questions for now.” he walked casually back to the door, reached into his pocket for a set of keys before unlocking the door. He paused a moment, glancing back to Yuri with a small smile. 

“Just a little piece of advice for you; I heard you’ve got a mean mouth on you. Kvais.. He’s got a short temper. It be a shame if his hand happened to slip. It happened to the last guy. Hand holding the bat just happened to slip right on the guy’s shins…” he shuddered before throwing the door open and walking out. 

‘Kvais…  _ Kvais…? _ ”

It was sheer luck that he looked up when he did, eyes catching a flash of something moving in the quickly shutting view behind the door. 

Something… No. someth _ one _ . Someone who looked far too familiar. 

The temperature in the room plunged as his very blood froze. 

That wasn’t right. It  _ couldn’t  _ be. There was no way in hell. His eyes had to be playing tricks on him. 

But he knew what he was seeing was real. Painfully real behind the black spots that were starting to form in his vision. 

And right before his vision really started to tunnel, in the milliseconds before the door clicked shut, his brain registered a shock of familiar blonde hair and wide brown eyes, half way through a limping step before the door shut, toppling Yuri back into unconsciousness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You GuYs!   
> *surprise* here ya go. Have a plot twist~


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Arbys who pointed it out!   
> I forgot to add: there is a +3 hour gap between the last chapter and this chapter!

_ ‘Can’t stay like this forever. Get up. Come on. Get up!’  _ Alarms started going off in his head the moment the first soft waves of consciousness drew at his foggy brain. And as the haziness started parting and his senses started coming back, so did the gut wrenching feeling of terror. 

There was something wrong. Very  _ very  _ wrong, but he just  _ couldn’t _ keep his eyes open. He was just so tired, and wherever it was he was laying down at felt  _ indescribably  _ amazing against the uncomfortably warm temperature around him that was starting to make his head hurt again. 

_ ‘Something is wrong. Get up! Please, for the love of god!’  _ there was a war raging inside his mind of all places, and it was getting bad. At least he assumed it was from the way it felt like; like his entire brain was splitting in two. One half of him just wanted to push past the hysterical panic that was steadily building to close his eyes and just jump right back into unconsciousness while the other half was screaming bloody murder begging him to wake up. 

And despite all of the countless records set and amazing physical feats he had accomplished in the past, this one felt impossible. 

The Olympics themselves were  _ nothing  _ compared to this because at least during the olympics his entire body agreed to work together. 

Now? He felt like he could cry from the almost bullying way his brain just  _ wouldn’t  _ let go. 

He just wanted to stay here and sleep forever for god sakes. He wasn’t asking for anything over the top. Wasn’t bothering anyone. 

Why couldn’t he just fucking  _ sleep _ ?!

But as the seconds ticked by ushering him further into the world of consciousness, his sleepy mind registered something weird. 

Something out of the blue and very left field but something connected to the chaos happening inside his head, the part that wanted him awake; it was getting hot. 

It had been uncomfortably warm when he woke up seconds prior, but now it wasn’t just warm. It was hot. 

He could feel it on every inch of skin that wasn’t covered. A worrying almost stinging feeling everywhere all at once. Even a little on the parts that  _ were  _ covered. 

It was starting to  _ hurt _ . 

But that was the push he needed to get his eyes to blearily flutter open, blinking against the weird heat.

_ ‘Oh …?’  _ Dark industrial steel and bright  _ bright  _ flood lights were what came into focus first as he stared straight ahead. It was… familiar. But from where? He’d definitely seen that specific view before… 

His eyes fluttered shut before he opened them again, tiling his head marginally to his left, wincing at the wave of pain that ran down his spine from his sore neck. But the pain wasn’t important at the moment. 

What was important was the fact that he had seen the view to his left before too. White floor with off white walls that looked more silver than white in the harsh lights. He took a moment before he turned his head to the right, feeling the same sense of de ja vous. Same silvery white floor and wall but with a taller familiar *blue wall with huge windows.   

He turned his head back to face forward, wiggling his fingers and toes now that he could feel them while trying to rack his brain for where he’d seen this view from. It had to be somewhere important going by the strength of the feeling of de ja vous. Somewhere important to him at least because all he could remember for right now was a strong feeling of affection. He felt so… happy? Like meeting an old friend. But he just couldn’t… it was on the tip of his tongue but he just couldn’t remember! He squeezed his eyes shut, gritting against the pounding in his head. 

“VICTOR!” his eyes flew open, body tensing at the sudden sharp shout. 

‘ _ Was that… was that real _ ?’ he thought subconsciously. Was he hearing things now too?

“NIKIFOROV!” his heart started picking up pace as he held in a tentative breath. There it was again…

“VITYA PLEASE. FOR FUCKSAKE GET THE FUCK UP!” it was followed by a series of rough thunks against the silvery walls to his left. He stayed unmoving for a second before digging his fingertips into the cold surface, turning his head slowly to the left. 

It took a few seconds but the moment the view in front of him registered, all fuzziness went out the window, sending terrified chills down his spine. 

“Y-yuri…?” he whispered hoarsely, completely ignoring his throat’s protest against the sudden scratchiness that came with the words. 

His arms moved slowly but surely as he flipped himself, bracing the weight on top of his left arm while his right hand splayed on the cold ground, giving him the leverage he needed to push himself into a sitting position. 

“Yura?” he said a little louder, eyes taking in the panic on the blonde’s face with confusion.  And then it hit him all at once, sending him reeling as recognition flashed in his brain. 

He was at the rink. More specifically, he was on the rink. He took the sudden burst of adrenaline to haul himself to his feet.  

The very rink that was on fire if he was actually seeing things right, like the orange flames licking up the blue walls. 

The rink was on fire and he was just standing there in the middle of the ice watching it burn. His safe place. His past twenty some years. His  _ home.  _

It was burning to the ground as bright flames leaped and licked at everything they touched. 

‘ _ No. not this. Anything but  _ **_this_ ** _!’  _ the panic in his brain picked up double time as he registered Yuri yelling again, banging on the wall to get Victor’s  _ very  _ divided attention. 

“-tor! Vitya! The building isn’t going to stand for long!” Victor nodded in a daze, taking small steps towards the wall where Yuri was. 

But there was something wrong. 

He could tell by the way he was backing up, almost like he was scared. 

Scared of Victor himself. Like he didn’t want to be anywhere near the man.

“Yura!” he shouted, hands clumsily unlocking the door from the other side, as he watched the blonde hurry away further.  

“Wait!” he scrambled out, catching himself on the door as he tripped over his own feet. 

“You need to go! Get out!” Yuri shouted, almost pleadingly. 

That wasn’t right…

“Yura, wait! Where are you going?!”Victor shouted in panic as he stepped out onto the rubbery floor.

“No! No. Go the other way! You can’t come this way!” 

“Why?!” 

The shouts were starting to get drowned out by the cracking of the interior. 

“Just go! Please! You can’t come this way!” 

Victor froze before he took a few more steps forward, eyes locking on the blonde trying to figure out what was happening. This wasn’t just the fire. There was something else… 

A few more steps had him no further than a meter away from Yuri who hadn’t made a single move, almost like he was frozen in place. 

The way he was staring at Victor with fear in his eyes just cemented the strange feeling. 

“Yur-” 

He flinched hard, falling in his haste to back up as something sent Yuri tipping dangerously forward, ripping a silent scream as the initial barrier of surprise gave way to white hot pain. He rushed to cover the area with his hands before his brain even caught up. And then he let go before immediately putting his hands back, holding them tightly against his side. Victor’s blood froze as his eyes landed on Yuri’s hands, or at least the area around it. The area that was rapidly dyeing an alarming scarlet as blood started to bubble out. 

“Oh my god.” Yuri’s hand started shaking as he met Victor’s eyes with wide eyed fear. Almost like he was pleading for the man to help, and in that moment he understood what absolute terror felt like as he all but crawled, unable to stand up fast enough. 

“Yura. I-I’m here. I’m here.” he near shouted, reaching out a hand mere  _ centimeters _ away from the blonde before they both froze.

“Touch him and I’ll take his legs next.” a new voice sounded behind Yuri. 

When had the man even gotten there?! Victor certainly hadn’t seen him when he was on the ice. 

But he followed the order, pulling his arm back. 

“Hands up behind your head.” he added. Victor obliged.

“And you.” the man tapped his gun against the nape of Yuri’s neck sending chills through his veins. 

“I thought I had been clear in my instructions when I let you help.” 

Yuri swallowed hard, staying as still as he could. 

“But I guess this isn’t too bad. Front row seats.” the man took a sweeping glance around at the burning rink. 

“But the finale isn’t inside. We should get going.” he continued, nodding to the locker room entrance doors a little ways behind Victor. 

He quirked a brow at Victor, motioning for him to turn and walk before prodding the gun at Yuri’s nape once more. 

* * *

 

They had made it back outside in tense silence. The man lead the two around the back and to the front of the building, seemingly not noticing nor caring about the freezing winds or the fact that it had started to snow. 

No. there was something else. Something more important. Something so important that he needed them to see with their own eyes. 

And see they did as they stood mere meters from the glass front doors of the Sports Champions Club building watching smoke furle up angrily as bright flames climbed up and down the back of the building where they had just evacuated. 

Victor watched, hands still up behind his head, eyes wide, shaking from sheer emotion that overtook him, grabbing at his heart in the most painful way. Twenty some odd years of his life. His happiness and safety. Crumbling. Burning in the snow like some sort of warped irony. Like it was penance for all the wrongs he had done in his life all in one moment. The gods wanted payment and they wanted it now and he could do nothing but stare as they took it all away. 

He snuck a glance sideways at Yuri who stood silent by his side and froze, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. He looked like he was going to be sick. Or pass out. Or be sick and pass out depending on how much longer they would stand there in front of the building. The fumes were definitely wafting over. 

But that wasn’t the cause. There was something else.. Something he was missing, going by the way he resolutely would not meet Victor’s eyes. 

Victor wiggled his fingers, feeling the man’s stare at the back of his head as he moved his feet by millimeters through the soft snow that was starting to pile. Millimeter by painstaking millimeter to nudge Yuri’s shoe as gently as he could. 

The blonde caught on immediately, still staring at the massive fire. 

“Still in there.” it was less than a whisper, and Victor only caught on from reading his lips. 

He nudged twice this time.

There was a pause before Yuri answered, taking a stuttering breath. 

“Yakov.” 

He felt the ground shake below him. Hoping against all hope that he had read wrong. He had to. That was the only explanation. Because if he had read correctly, it meant that Yakov, the father figure of his life. The man who’d been there most all his life. The very one who all but saved his life, was in there. In the burning building possibly dead while he was outside and very much alive. 

He didn’t see the tears roll down Yuri’s cheeks, vision blurred by his own tears that welled out at the implications of the short conversation. 

It felt like he was dying. 

No. Dying would be better than this. This was a whole new level of suffering. 

Pain. 

Confusion. 

Heartbreak. 

Fear. 

All rolled into one drowning him in ice while he couldn’t do anything but watch. 

“You know, it’s more beautiful than I imagined it would be.” the man spoke up. 

Victor couldn’t breathe let alone answer as sobs racked his body. But he couldn’t look away. 

The man put an arm around Victor’s shoulders, patting him consolingly as he watched the fire rage gleefully. 

“It’s okay. I know how you feel. Like your entire world is combusting right before your eyes and you feel powerless to fix things.” he didn’t answer, holding down the urge to throw the man’s arm off. 

“That feeling, the one that’s worse than death.” Victor stiffened as the tone took a sharp turn, as the man squeezed his shoulder just a little  _ too  _ hard. He could feel the man’s eyes staring at him. Watching him with an unnerving glint. 

“I want you to look. Really  _ look _ ” Victor recoiled as long fingers grabbed painfully at his hair, jerking it back so his head was held high. 

“I’ve waited almost sixteen years for this. To burn down your happiness like you did mine.”  the man jerked again, causing Victor to wince against the sharp pain. 

“You  _ owe  _ me, Nikiforov. And I want that payment now.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG  
> DUN DUN DUUUUUUN  
> _____  
> 16 years tho... some people really never let things go...


	14. Chapter 14

“You need to relax a little, Victor. You’re not sixteen anymore. Those forehead lines are more or less permanent at our age, you know.”  

“Mhmm… the freezing, Soviet era interrogation room aesthetic really helps bring a feeling of relaxation.” Victor rebutted immediately, sarcasm and disdain dripping off of every word as his narrowed blue eyes didn’t leave the man sitting across from where he sat, leaning back on a cold steel chair tucked against an equally cold steel table that helped complete the aforementioned Soviet backroom KGB interrogation-slash-murder room look. The conspicuously large drain toward the middle of the floor did nothing but cement that strange thought Victor’s head. At least, in the part that wasn’t freaking out. 

Kvais just chuckled, blowing another cloud of cigarette smoke towards Victor who’s frown edged just a little deeper. 

The past two hours had been a confusing roller coaster of emotional turmoil starting from when he and Yuri where shoved into a black SUV with sacks put over their head, driven in circles for nearly an hour before being manhandled to wherever the hell they were now. He and Yuri had been separated as the man dragged Victor over and shoved him onto the chair with a stern order to stay still against the threat of handcuffs and bullet holes before he ripped the sack off, leaving Victor squinting against the harsh flood light brightness of the otherwise dingy room.  

Kavais, as he introduced himself as, didn’t leave, much to Victor’s surprise. He stayed, sitting himself down across from him, pulling out and lighting a cigarette. He even went as far as to offer Victor one, he had declined, and Kvais had laughed. 

Something about athletes and immortality. Something sarcastic that got under his skin. But he was smart and he held it all in. 

That was where they were now, more than twenty minutes later, sitting in the freezing room as Kvais smoked cigarette after cigarette almost like he was trying to get Victor to pass out from secondhand smoke, something that had Victor itching under his skin as his blood began to boil. The silence didn’t help the walls he tried to form around the traumatic events of the past few hours as the implications started to leak out one by one, drawing themselves apart in his head. 

“Well shit… I knew I should have gotten a second pack.” 

Victor quirked a brow. 

“Are you a chain smoker or do you just like fire?” it was devoid of emotion, but edged in ice, causing the man to pause his scrounging. 

“Both I guess?” he shrugged before stopping his scrounging, pulling his hands out of his pocket to fold them in front of him on the table as he turned his attention back to Victor who stared back. 

“At that rate you should just cut your lungs out. It’ll be faster that way.” he answered dryly. 

Kvais chuckled. 

“I suppose it would be, wouldn’t it? Would you be interested?” 

“In cutting your lungs out?” 

“More or less.”

Victor paused a moment, leaning forward so that their faces were mere centimeters apart. He stared the man down, his own bright blues clashing with eerily similar blues as the anger started bubbling again. 

“If I had the chance, I’d pull your lungs out from your throat and tie them like a tie.” he hissed.

“That sound… bloody.” Kvais nodded. 

“In a way I am glad to hear it.” he continued, leaning back to give Victor a once over, smirking briefly before he continued. 

“The bloodlust. It means you’ve got claws now, Nikiforov. So unlike all those years ago.” 

Victor froze. 

“What was it, sixteen years ago? That snowy night.” 

He felt his gut drop. He didn’t like where this was going.  

“You had long hair back then, like the blonde. Perhaps a little longer. You were smaller too. Not quite Russia’s treasure yet, but you were getting there.” 

Victor couldn’t move.. Part of him knew. Part of him realized what was happening and who exactly it was he was speaking to, but the other part… that part was revolting against him. Trying to erase that memory that was being brought back to light after being buried under so much snow in the darker parts of his mind. 

And from what he could see in the glint of the man’s eyes, he knew as well. Just as dramatic as Victor, he was dragging things out. Bringing the audience to their toes in fearful expectation of the rest of the story. 

But Victor didn’t want that. He didn’t  _ want  _ the rest of the story because he  _ knew  _ the rest of the story. 

_ His  _ story. The one he’d buried all that time. He knew what happened, and it still haunted him to this day. But it was far more terrifying to hear such a personal story being told to him by someone else in such detail. Almost creepy, in a way. 

“I still don’t know if you were brave or just stupid back then. But  _ Vitya,  _ it was near  _ midnight  _ what did you think was going to happen?” 

Victor didn’t answer. 

“Even without the long hair, your face was already all over the news. It was just too easy.” Kvais shrugged. 

“You weren’t in the mini market, and you weren’t there when those boys came. I still don’t know who you are.” Victor bit out. 

“So why are you going through all this trouble?” 

Kvais paused, frowning momentarily before wiping it clean off of his face. 

“But you do know me, Vitya.” 

“ _ Don’t  _ call me that. It’s only for close friends.” 

“We were close friends, once upon a time-” ‘Yakov calls me Vitya but that’s up to you’ Kvais mimicked. 

“That what you told me.” 

“I would  _ never  _ be any type of friends with someone like you. You’re a monster.” 

“But so are you. You just don’t remember.” the man shot back. 

“You might have buried those memories real deep down, but I promise you that when we finally get them back up, you’re going to realize that you’re just as much of a monster as I am, Nikiforov.” there was sharp steel underlining every word. 

A frown bloomed on Kvais’s face as the man’s eyes darkened in anger. 

“Do you still not remember? We were rinkmates, Nikiforov. For an entire summer.” 

Victor searched the man’s angry eyes for signs of a lie, hope diminishing as the seconds ticked by. 

“I don’t… I’m sorry I don’t remember.” Victor’s voice was  hushed, almost shocked. 

“As for me not being there that night, you’re wrong about that as well. I was there.”

“I left the rink alone, went to the market alone, got beat up, and walked back to the rink alone. You weren’t there.” 

“You didn’t walk back alone.” 

“I did. I stumbled back to the rink half conscious and passed out in the coach’s box.” 

“You did stumble back. But you were half conscious by the time you got to the park near the rink.  _ I  _ was the one who opened the rink doors for you. You forgot to bring the keys. And  _ I  _ was the one who put you in that box.”

Victor stared, half in confusion and half in anger. It couldn’t be true. There was no way he wouldn’t have remembered someone being with him in the rink.

“But to be fair, you were in a lot of pain.” 

“They broke some ribs and dislocated my arm and some other things. I was bleeding out.” 

There was a momentary pause again before Kvais spoke. 

“Actually, you didn’t have the broken ribs and bleeding before you got to the rink.” 

“No. the broken ribs punctured through skin and I almost bled out in that box. Yakov told me later.”

“The ribs did puncture and you did bleed, but that wasn’t them. That was me.”

The temperature of the room dropped and Victor felt a chill go down his spine. He was wrong. He was  _ wrong _ . He had to be.

But at the same time, part of his brain, deep in the corners of his darkest memories, it felt so...right?

“I broke your ribs and I left you in that box to bleed out thinking you were actually going to bleed out. But you didn’t, you slippery bastard. You were supposed to die.” 

And within moments Victor felt the weight of hundreds of memories he’d buried come railing back, hitting him full force all at once leaving him gasping for breath feeling like he was going to pass out. 

“Oh my god.” 

Kvais let out a haughty laugh.

“The man finally remembers.” 

“Y-you were on the junior national hockey team.” 

“With Kaprizov. Yeah, I was.” 

“A-and you came to that summer camp Yakov held with Chugunkin. Something about strengthening and grace?” 

Kvais nodded. 

“I was too all over the place. Needed some grace on ice to make it on the national team. So he sent me to train over the summer so I could try out for the national team that season.” 

“Johann… Your name is Johann Kvais?” 

The man nodded. 

“But you made it on the national team. I remember that. You did.” 

“I did make it on the team.” the man nodded bitterly. 

“I was on it for almost a month before someone stole your phone. Remember that? When you got back from your first ever big international win and freaked out because you couldn’t find it anywhere. And then those photos were leaked, the ones of us drinking underage, at that bar we snuck into. They kicked me out after that. Months and months of work to get on the team all fucked up because you couldn’t keep track of your shit.” he hissed. 

“They weren’t going to let me try to get back on the team, so I couldn’t skate anymore. Do you know how that feels,  _ Vitya”  _ he spit the name. 

“To know that you’ll never  _ ever  _ be able to get back on the ice again? They were fine with you. You were the prodigy. You couldn’t do anything wrong, could you? But  _ me _ ? I was dragged through so much muck. For the same. Damn. thing.” he leaned forward again, locking eyes with Victor. 

“So that night I decided I knew what I wanted to do. I was already dead, but you weren’t and I just couldn’t let that be. So I smashed your ribs in with your skates and I left you there so that you’d die. But you fucked that up as well.” 

He chuckled again, keeping Victor frozen in his seat. 

“But I guess it was a good thing you survived. I got to see the look on your face when I burned that damned rink down. I will say, I wish I took a photo. I’ll definitely remember it for life.” 

Victor recoiled. Feeling conflicted as more and more memories started coming back. 

“But I have one last surprise for you, my friend. My  pièce de résistanc if you will.” he took his phone and typed a quick message before sending it off, staring Victor dead in the eyes the entire time, watching. Waiting. 

And after a few moments, the tense silence was broken by a knock at the door. And then chills everywhere. All down Victor’s spine and the back of his neck. 

Time itself had stopped in that very moment, leaving him gasping for air against the sudden Kmetaphorical cloth that had been put over his face to smother him. That’s what it felt like. Like he was being smothered by ice as the world started to spin.He felt like he was going to vomit.  His brain just  _ couldn’t  _ accept what was clearly in front of his eyes. 

“Welcome, welcome. Take a seat.” Kvais gestured to the empty third seat between the two. 

“I’m sure you’ve met before, but out of politeness’ sake, Nikiforov meet national team captain, Kaprizov. Kaprizov meet soon to be dead world champion, Nikiforov.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh SHIT


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short action-filler chapter!

“You disgusting piece of  _ shit. _ ” Victor hissed, glaring daggers at the familiar blonde who couldn’t quite meet his eyes. His hands grabbed a hold of the man’s jacket collar, yanking him closer so they were mere centimeters away. 

“You  _ knew _ ? This entire time, you were a part of this?!” Kvais pried Victor off of Kaprizov before shoving him back onto his seat, dragging the free chair farther away from the fuming skater.

He gestured to Kaprizov to take his seat before scooting in closer to the table, watching in interest as rage flit through Victor’s eyes.

“You know initially, it wasn’t even supposed to be Plisetsky’s place. It was supposed to be your place. But I thought about it some more and realized it would just hurt  _ that  _ much more.” the man shrugged. 

“You were always super protective over friends, it’s nice to see that hasn’t changed.” 

There was a beat of tense silence before Kvais jolted in his seat, clapping Kaprizov on the shoulder. 

“You’re probably wondering about this guy. It  _ completely  _ slipped my mind!” his tone took on an almost mocking sing song lilt as he smiled excitedly at Victor who couldn’t take his glare off of the traitor. 

“Kaprizov agreed to help a few days before the goodwill clinic. I managed to get back in touch with him a few days before the clinic and found that we had a common denominator.” he grinned almost maniacally. 

“It was  _ you _ ! Victor-fucking perfect- Nikiforov. You know, being perfect isn’t always a good thing. You have a lot of anti-fans.” he chuckled in glee, seemingly oblivious to the white hot rage in Victor’s eyes. 

“For some reason, they like to compare you to people in other sports. Mainly hockey, but you get the gist. It’s always  _ Nikiforov  _ this and  _ Nikiforov  _ that. It makes a man  _ tick _ , you know?” 

Victor turned his head slowly, almost mockingly “no. I don’t.” he drawled. 

He didn’t have time to prepare himself as Kvais’ fist collided with his jaw, sending him recoiling one way while his torso remained unmoving causing a shocking jolt of nerves to fire down his spine in white hot pain. His eyes started to water from the strength of the impact. 

“You have  _ no  _ idea how many people have wanted to do that.” Kvais spoke calmly, completely at odds with his violent actions as he took his seat. 

“To knock you down a peg or two.” 

Victor stretched out his neck, working his jaw to pop before turning back to face Kvais. Cold dead eyes met equally cold dead eyes, and in all honesty, Kaprizov couldn’t help the chill that ran down his back.

It was a side of Nikiforov he hadn’t even known existed. 

“There it is. I knew it would come out eventually.” the man crooned obnoxiously, reaching forward to cup Victor’s face in his hands, to which Victor slapped the hands away, no breaking eye contact. 

“You see-” Kvais clapped Kaprizov on the back again, in a concerning amount of glee. 

“This-” he gestured to Victor who looked as though he were radiating fury itself. “-this is the  _ real _ Nikiforov. Under all those  _ fake _ layers” he sneered. 

“The cutthroat, manipulative, almost psychopathic genius who would do  _ anything  _ to win.” he tilted his head fractionally, looking at Victor with wide eyes of faux innocence. 

“Isn’t that right, Vitya?  _ Anything _ .” 

Victor didn’t break eye contact, tensing and untensing his jaws against the silence. 

“Like throwing your  _ best friend _ under the bus. You left me like I was  _ nothing. _ ” he hissed, pounding the table.

Victor quirked a brow. 

That’s right, what’s friendship when you’re a genius.” he spat. I didn’t  _ leave  _ you Kvais. We were on different levels. I just moved forward and you just stayed where you were.  _ Pathetic _ .” 

There was real rage in his eyes when Kvais lunged across the table to sock Victor in the jaw once more, wrestling the man to the floor as he continued to throw punches. 

But that wasn’t what Victor was focused on.

No. 

Kaprizov could feel the sharp stare even as he sat looking straight ahead instead of to his side to watch Kvais beat Victor bloody. 

He sat, hands fisted on his legs under the table as he counted the seconds, breathing deep as he tried to keep himself together instead of vomiting from the sick sounds of violence right beside him. 

He didn’t last too long before he stood suddenly, nearly toppling his chair over in haste to stand up, taking one single glance down at where Victor was weakly defending himself, face starting to bruise as it the wounds mixed with crimson blood before stumbling to the door and opening it. 

He didn’t need to see to feel the final look of hurt betrayal Victor shot him before he grabbed Kvais by the hair, taking the situation back in his hands as Kaprizov escaped, slamming the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitely felt a little OC, right? There's a reason for that, I promise! the next few chapters are going to go back and characterize Victor a little more before he got to where he is.   
> Also! Best trust and BELIEVE he let Kvais win for a bit. it was to test Kaprizov. What side do you think he's on?


	16. Chapter 16

“ _ W-wow _ -” Victor’s eye twitched at the wet cough that followed Kvais’s drawn out exclamation a few steps away from where he stood frozen, knuckles turning white from his grip on the door knob. 

The man had stayed down after Victor left him reeling from a particularly hard punch before dropping him back onto the cold cement ground in a bid to take the situation back under control.

“That’s gotta s-suck.” he cackled, intermittently coughing wet coughs that coated his lips and teeth in what looked like specks of crimson blood. It was all over his jaw, running down his nose, sluggishly oozing from just above his right brow. Victor stared blankly, itching to shut him up with just  _ one  _ more punch. But from the looks of it, he was already severely concussed if the slurring was anything to go by. And with the shitty turn of events being as they were, he needed the man.

“Where is he?” Victor ground out, letting go of the  _ locked  _ knob. 

“Hell ‘f I know. He-’es moody like tha’. Y-you fucked it up.” Kvais dissolved back into a cackling fit, nearly choking as the coughs overtook him. The painful sounding coughs dissolved further into chokes as he tried to shimmy away from the terrifying shadow that was suddenly above him, but he failed to do so under Victor’s iron grip on his collar, all but levitating him from the ground as his fingers fumbled to find purchase back on the rough floor. 

“You’re concussed.” 

“Obv’sly. You did that.” Kvais rolled his eyes before settling Victor with a hazy glare. 

“If he doesn’t come back, it’s going to get worse.” 

Kvais hrumphed,  _ clearly  _ afronted at the obvious statement that had come from the man who gave him the concussion in the first place. 

He was  _ concussed _ . What was  _ he _ supposed to do?!

Victor dropped him back down with an angry growl as the search through the man’s pockets proceeded to inform him of what he was worried would come out. 

“I don’t like phones.” Kvais answered with a smirk. 

“Tha’s why I-I used Kaprz..” he started slurring further, tapering off at the end. 

Oh  _ shit _ .

Victor’s gut dropped as Kvais’s eyes fluttered shut.

He made a mistake. A terrible  _ terrible  _ fucking  _ awful  _ mistake. Shouldn’t have touched the man to begin with. 

He stared in terror as the wet wheezes continued, thanking the deities above for the man’s tenacious will to live because if Kvais stopped breathing, he might do so as well…

* * *

 

“Katsuki! Oh thank  _ god  _ you’re alright!” 

They heard the strangely alien sounding  _ thunks  _ of something beforeYuuri tensed as he was suddenly enveloped into a tight embrace, causing his back to stretch painfully against the metal chair he was sitting on. 

“Wha-”

“Excuse me, sir. Are you Mr. Yu-Yuuri Katski’s contact? We haven’t been able to get too far conversation wise.” the officer stood.

“Yes, yes I am! Oh god. We were all so worried, with the fire and everything!” 

There was something amiss. He could practically feel it radiating from the blonde. 

“Ah, I see. Mr-uh-”

“Kaprizov.” he brought one of the crutches to the other side, balancing on his good leg to shake the officer’s hand. 

“Oh...Oh! Kaprizov from the national team?!” 

The blonde shot the officer a small smile and a nod. 

“Mr. Katsuki here is a close friend of one of my close friends, Victor Nikiforov.”

The officer’s eyes widened further at that as he glanced between Yuuri and Kaprizov. 

“I see. Well, Mr. Katsuki was released from the hospital a few hours ago today but we haven’t got too much to go on because of the-uh- the language barrier.” 

Kaprizov nodded. 

“Did they find him at the rink?” 

“Yes. It was a terrible fire. Some are thinking arson from the scale of it. But I think Katsuki was pulled before the fire, if the notes are correct.” 

“Oh?”

“But he did suffer some bruising, most likely from a fall somewhere. They found traces of a low grade knockout gas in his system during the blood work.” 

“What? That sounds terrifying!” 

“The world is a dangerous place. We’re looking to see where they may have gotten something like that.” 

“Well, in that case, I was hoping to discharge Mr. Katsuki and get him back home. I know he hasn’t been in Russia too long. I can’t imagine how much this must have shaken him up.”

The officer nodded. 

“Oh, and one other thing. I’ve talked to Nikiforov as well. He’s being running around trying to get things under control with the rink and Plisetsky and everyone else, especially-” he lowered his voice just so, leaning in closer. 

“-especially because they haven’t actually found Yakov Feltsman, the coach, yet. So he’s under a lot right now. But he did mention something about coming by the station sometime this afternoon to talk to someone about a potential lead.” 

“Oh, of-of course! Whenever!” 

Kaprizov nodded with another smile. 

“But that’s between you and me for now. Like I said, he’s under a lot so he might not come in till tomorrow or something like that. So I’ll take Katsuki out of your hands so you guys can focus on the bigger problem.” 

“Sounds good.” 

He took the clipboard with paperwork that the officer handed him before turning back to Yuuri who was staring at him with a mix of emotions, particularly suspicion, but he’d deal with that later. 

“How are you here?” he asked quietly, not taking his eyes off of Kaprizov as the man started filling out the forms. 

“I walked.” it was flatter than he was trying for, but the staring was getting creepy and he didn’t like it.

“It’s been less than two days.” Yuuri moved his stare to the crutches and then to Kaprizov’s bad leg that he had lifted, balancing on his good leg. 

“Mhmm. Sometimes you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do.” 

There was silence before Yuuri spoke again. 

“Where’s Victor?” 

“I’m still looking for him. Plisetsky as well. Yakov… He-uh... -” he looked up from the paperwork, pen slack in his hand as he made eye contact with Yuuri who looked like he already knew what Kaprizov was going to say.

“He-” Kaprizov swallowed thickly, refocusing on the paperwork in front of him. 

“-We haven’t found him but-someone said that they-” he coughed “-they found someone in the zamboni. They’ve sent it to autopsy, but I was at the rink and apparently so were you all, I saw parts of the footage before it cut out. I hate to say it but I feel like Feltsman would have been there as well…” 

Yuuri took a deep breath, screaming at himself inside to pull himself together. This wasn’t the time to fall apart. 

Not with the bizarre and  _ extremely  _ suspicious turn of events. 

“But for now, I’ll take you back to your place. You need to rest. I can bring over the information I have now and we can go over it together. Maybe see if you can find something I couldn’t. He handed the clipboard back to the officer with a nod before hauling Yuuri to his feet before leading him gently but awkwardly to the door with his crutches. 

* * *

 

It was pure chance that Yuri overheard the conversation as the copper haired skater who was put in charge of him checked his stitches again, thinking he was still too out of it from whatever it was they had given him from the pain…

He didn’t even close the door, talking with another skater about the situation at hand. Apparently how Kvais was going to be angry because  _ someone  _ hadn’t followed the plan. They had Plisetsky, but they had failed to catch Katsuki before the police caught him first. Something about a miscommunication that had someone driving Katsuki to the hospital straight into the hands of the police before realizing what they’d done wrong. Which was offsetted by the fact that they managed to catch Nikiforov as well. 

Yuri nearly jolted straight out of his body at that. 

Victor was  _ alive _ , and so was Katsuki. 

They did mention however, that they still weren’t sure who the hell Feltsman was but that he probably burned to death since the fire department couldn’t catch the fire in time, causing what sounded to be a pretty big explosion from the machinery for the rink. That had his heart sinking so fast it hurt.

But that was  _ nothing  _ compared to hearing that  _ Kaprizov  _ had helped organize bringing Nikiforov in for the little meeting with Kvais. Apparently, they were all friends in one way or another. They all knew each other. But Kaprizov and Kvais, they were  _ friends _ .

That had sent his heart beating away to a point he started seeing dots in his vision. 

That  _ bastard _ !

So Kaprizov was a part of this as well… It figured, what with his  _ entire  _ team being in the know. But he’d been  _ shot _ …?

 And what about Chugunkin? Was the man a part of this as well? Was he even alive?

He felt the sting of a needle plunging deep into his bloodstream before he heard the copper head pack his stuff up, leaving quietly. 

Yuri’s eyes snapped open in seconds as realization set it. 

There was no click. The man had left the door open.

_ ‘Go. Right now!’ every part of his exhausted body screamed at him _

And so he did, clenching his teeth against the pain as he counted a full minute before gliding out past the door, not taking a single look back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Victor  
> ___  
> Yuuri  
> ___  
> Yuri  
> .  
> .  
> So all of them are currently in different situations, but now Victor knows everything and Yuri mostly does as well. Yuuri doesn't know anything past them finding Kaprizov at the rink.


	17. Chapter 17

He was running out of time. Yuri could feel the edges of his consciousness slipping away into the slow but steadily tightening grip of whatever it was they had given him nearly fifteen minutes ago. 

Which may have been the reason why he made it as far as he was, mind too busy trying to stay awake and just keep putting one foot in front of the other that there just _wasn_ ’t any energy left to expend on fear or stress He’d been lucky, he knew that. There was just no way the universe would be so kind again, and with the knowledge that he knew now, he knew that getting caught could most certainly equal death. There was no reason as to why they needed him alive. And in the most twisted possibility, Yuri knew that the man, Kvais, wouldn’t be above making Victor watch. Just to rub it in his face. Because he was just _that_ kind of crazy. 

He skidded to a stop, pausing before rounding yet another corner in the hellish maze of wherever the fuck they were at. It was a terrible layout that just reeked of negligent and just all around bad designing, but there was just _something_ about the building that was oddly familiar. Something obvious but hidden by the groggy haze that was filling his brain.

 _Straight down the hall and take a left. Just keep going._ He repeated mentally, putting in an extra spurt of speed hoping to whatever deity was listening above, to please _please_ let his choice have been the right one. 

And it _was_.

He almost passed out then and there from the sheer amount of relief. But relief was stomped down as a wave of utter shock railed in his mind as he realized why everything felt so damn familiar. 

“No _fucking way_ …” Yuri muttered, pausing to pull himself together again. There was no time to be surprised. He needed to keep moving. There was no hesitation before he all but sprinted down a narrow hall beyond the door he’d just stepped through to come out at what looked to be the front atrium of a rink. The very rink that Kaprizov and his team trained in. 

This was good. He knew where he was. Approximately a whole two bus stops away from where their rink was. Not too far away, but it was dark outside and probably freezing going by the way the snow hadn’t melted, sitting roughly cleared on the ground. 

He took a deep breath before all but sprinting, slipping quietly out of the building before rushing away. He needed to put as much distance between him and the building as he could because he knew that the copper headed skater would be back to check on him and then they’d realize what had happened and he’d be stuck on foot against a convoy of SUVs and angry hockey players with no qualms of killing, and that was just _not_ going to fly. 

So he took off, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, disappearing into the darkness of the winter night.

Yuuri hung on in the ‘in-between’ realm of semi-consciousness, not fully trusting himself to be correct in assuming that whatever noise he had heard downstairs was real. But his eyes flew open the moment he registered Makka’s muffled barks from downstairs, alerting him that there was, in fact, someone at the door at four in the morning. Which didn’t really register until he dragged himself out of bed and stumbled downstairs, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he peeked through the peephole before rushing to unlock the door. 

How creepy… the deja vous hit him hard, but Yuri’s sudden steely gaze hit him harder, knocking the grogginess out of his eyes. 

“Are you alone?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. 

Yuuri nodded warily. 

“ _Christ._ ” Yuri hissed as he deflated, swaying where he stood. 

“You’re okay?” he asked, a little louder this time. 

“Are you?” Yuuri countered. 

The blonde waved the concern away, moving toward the living room looking exhausted but still strung just a little too tight for Yuuri’s liking. Something was wrong, _again_.

“Where were you” Yuri shook his head “actually, no, what do you remember?” 

Yuuri moved cautiously to the sofa across from Yuri

“I-we were at the rink andthe plan didn’t go as planned and then the lights came on and I passed out. I woke up at the hospital and then they took me to the police and I was there for a few hours. But Kaprizov came to get me.” Yuri’s stormy eyes narrowed marginally, but not enough for Yuuri to notice as he continued. 

“Dropped me off at home and then stopped by a little later to go over his plan. Apparently he’s been looking for you and Victor as well! We went through CCTV footage and possible individuals but there was nothing conclusive…” 

“ _Fuck_.” Yuri breathed deeply, rubbing a hand across his tired eyes before facing Yuuri again. 

“Kaprizov, did he say he was going to come back? Did he say anything else at all?” 

“No? We never made set plans to regroup but he did say he’ll get back to me first thing when he finds more information. Yura, what’s happening. You’re scaring me.” 

“You need to keep away from him. Don’t text him. Don’t call him. Don’t let him _anywhere_ near you. You understand?” his accent became more pronounced as he got more and more worked up, medicated grogginess forgotten in the shadow of realizing just how terrifying their situation was becoming. 

“What do you mean? We’ve already came to an agreement that Kaprizov was on our side. He’s an ally, Yura.” 

“He’s not. He’s lying.” 

“How do you know?” wide brown eyes met stormy greys in genuine worry. 

“ _Because_. I know where Victor is, and I know who took us out.” 

“What?!” 

“The man who shot Kaprizov, they’re friends and it was planned.”

“You know who shot Kaprizov?” 

“Victor knows him as well. They were friends when they were younger. But this guy, Kvais. He’s mental. Hell bent on revenge because Victor fucked up his career or something. So he’s working with Kaprizov and his team.” 

“H-how-”

“I know because that guy Kaprizov is working with, he shot me too.” he gingerly lifted his shirt to reveal the bandages. 

“He shot me and he set the rink on fire with Victor inside. But we got out. And he made us _watch_ , Katsuki. The rink’s burnt to the ground and Yakov-” he choked suddenly as his mind really started to process his frenzied rambling. 

“Yakov. He might be dead. I overheard some of the skaters gossiping. They found some half burnt but dead inside the zamboni. They can’t identify the person yet but they sent it to autopsy.”

Yuuri sat stunned, unable to register the new information. 

“But they fucked up because you weren’t supposed to have been taken to the hospital. It was a mistake. You were supposed to have been where they were keeping us because when I woke up they told me that they had you.” Yuri gulped down a few breaths. 

“And they fucked up again because they didn’t lock the door to where they were keeping me. They’re going to figure out that I’m not there eventually. They probably already have. So we need to leave because they’re going to be out looking really soon.” 

Yuuri nodded stiffly.

“I have an idea.” 

Yuri gestured for him to continue. 

“We run to Yakov’s place. We’ll have to leave on foot but I have cash on me so we can use public transportation as well.”

“We can’t just leave. I don’t even know if I was followed or not. They’re going to notice.” 

“Which brings me to the question-”

Yuuri winced, gazing almost apologetically at Yuri who narrowed his eyes in suspicion. 

“Spit it out!” 

“How opposed are you to cutting your hair?” 

"..."


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Necessary filler

“I look like...like...a complete stranger....” Yuri tapered off weakly, gazing at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. 

“Yeah, but if  _ you  _ feel that way,  _ they’re  _ not even going to have a clue.” Yuuri replied somewhere from the massive adjoined closet, rifling through Victor’s sweater collection. 

“The pants might be a little short but you’re about the same shoe size so you can wear boots.” he tossed a pair of dark denim jeans and a soft woodsy flannel before pulling back victoriously, having found the sweater he’d been looking for, a soft hunter green knitted sweater they’d gotten from a previous winter trip to Germany. 

“And this too.” he hung the long boxy camel colored coat on the door before opening drawers in search of Victor’s winter boots, the brown leather one Chris had gifted the Christmas before. 

“Why are there so many colors?!” 

“Be _ cause, everyone  _ knows you don’t wear anything but black and animal print. They won’t be looking for bright clothes.” 

“My hair is  _ literally  _ shorter than Victor’s and  _ jet black,  _ Katsudon. I’m pretty sure they won’t be looking at all.” he spat without venom, still gazing at his appearance in shock.

“Just put the damn clothes on!” 

“Fine! Just hurry up. We need to leave as soon as possible.” 

 Yuuri hummed in agreement, moving back into the bathroom before throwing open the in-suite closet to go through the multiple boxes of everything from shampoo to hairpins and other unspeakables….

“I know I bought it last Halloween. I don’t think I threw it away, I mean I only used a little and- YES!” he emerged victoriously with a decent sized tub of what looked like hair wax.

“Phichit told me about this color wax that can cover black colored hair really well so I bought grey-I mean platinum- don’t you  _ dare  _ tell him I said that” his eyes widened and narrowed as he realized the slip.

“It goes over pretty well. Especially the eyebrows. And I have color contacts that’ll make my eyes blue.” 

He left back to the closet to rummage some more, taking down boxes from the overhead shelves. He pulled out a store bag with some sort of flashy sparkly name on the front, unfolded it and dump the contents out, surveying the clothes with a grimace. 

“The pants won’t fit, but after we get through this mess feel free to have the top and the jacket.” he pulled the tight black leather pants on, shimmying a little before swapping his current shirt for a soft white long sleeve button up with blue roses embroidered on the collar. He stood gazing at the frankly  _ ridiculously  _ expensive leather kimono jacket that he just  _ knew  _ would do nothing for warmth against the Russian cold before draping it on. He reached over and grabbed a pair of thick wool socks and wiggled them on before sliding into his plain black Docs, the one he got matching pairs with Victor.  

“Oh, Yuri!” 

“What? What happened?!”

“Calm down. Just look in the medicine cabinet.” 

He heard the tell tale sound of it popping open. 

“There should be a pair of gold rimmed glasses.”

“That’s so excessive.”

“They’re Chris’. He forgot them when he came by last time.”

He didn’t let Yuri reply. 

“Just put them on. They complete the look.” 

“Who are you? What’s Victor done to you, Katsudon?!”

“I’m giving you a satchel. I’m putting emergency supplies in there, like first aid and all that. Do you know how to use a knife?” 

There was a pause before Yuri peaked into the closet, leveling Yuuri with a  _ highly  _ bemused glare, before almost indignantly answering. 

“You just  _ stab _ …?” he gestured shortly.

“I mean-”

“This is  _ Russia _ . I’m sure even Makka can use a knife.” 

“You’re kidding… You  _ are  _ kidding, right?”

He gave the older one last look of bemusement and a disappointed shake before making his way back to the bathroom to put the damned glasses on and internally weep over his butchered hair.

Kvais was gonna pay.

Yuri Plisetsky was gonna to  _ castrate  _ the bastard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise the next time I update I'm gonna have reference art!  
> The VIBE I was going for(not necessarily inspired by the outfits in the MV, just the vibe of the songs)  
> Yuri: AKMU -"Last Goodbye" and Bolbbalgan4 - "We Loved"  
> Kinda artsy/indie cute  
> Yuuri: 4Minute - "Hate" and Dean - "Instagram"
> 
> ALSO! If you want to submit artwork for the story, hit me up on Tumblr! My handle is chaoticmobili and you should see a moomin for my propic


	19. Chapter 19

“Pick up!” 

“Didn’t you say this guy was out to get everyone?!”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t know that you know that! For all he knows I could be laying half conscious in some ditch cause of the painkillers they gave me. And you’re recovering at home.”

“What am I even supposed to say?”

“I can’t tell you if you don’t fucking pick up?!” 

“Alright. Okay. O-“ 

There was a blur of movement that nearly toppled Yuuri into the doorframe he stood frozen next to, holding the ringing phone with shaky hands. 

He almost dropped it the moment the ringing stopped when Yuri seized the moment to slide the green call button. 

“Hello?” 

“H-hello?” Yuuri took in a sharp breath when the younger elbowed him none too gently in the ribs, glaring at the man to pull it together! 

“Katsuki. Just checking in. How are you feeling?”

“Much better, honestly. I needed the sleep.” 

There was a mild chuckle on the other end. 

“That’s good to hear. I was worried when I saw you look so pale at the station.” 

“Yeah. This whole insane situation is getting to me.” 

“I agree. It’s been a wild couple of days.” 

There was a brief pause. They could hear the sound of a car door shutting. 

“Did you get back safely?” 

“Not yet. I’m stopping by my rink before I go home. I remembered something that might be helpful to all of this.” 

Yuri squeezed his eyes shut as relief washed over him. Kaprizov wasn’t on the way here like he feared. But that meant they were really running out of time.  The other skaters were bound to alert the captain about his escape. And that would mean Katsuki would no longer be safe for much longer. Which meant they needed to get out  _ now.  _

“Sounds good. Kaprizov, please, stay safe. And let me know if you find anything!” 

“Will do. Get some rest. I’ll stop by tomorrow morning.” 

The line went dead leaving Yuuri to stare solemnly at the dark screen in his hand. Yuri didn’t say a word as he noticed the tremor in the Katsuki’s hand. It coupled too well with the worrying paleness. Like he was going to either vomit or pass out any moment. Possibly even both… 

“We’ve got to go  _ now _ . Right now.” Yuri grabbed a hold of Yuuri’s sleeve, dragging him out of the room and toward the door before freezing altogether. Yuuri on the other hand ran headlong into the blonde who surprisingly didn’t lash out. He  _ did  _ however, turn to face the other skater, eyes wide in a mix of fear and wary disbelief. 

“Yuuri.” 

_ That  _ was bizarre in and of itself to snap Yuuri out of his panicky haze. 

“D-did you just call me Yuu-“ 

“Where’s Makka…?” 

The two shared a terrifying moment of eye contact before the implications behind the question sunk in. 

“ _ Oh my god _ …” Yuuri whispered, hands jumping up to his face in shock. 

“Oh my god! I didn’t even I-oh my god. She wasn’t here when I got here and I didn’t even notice!” Shaky hands ran through platinum locks. 

“She wasn’t here when you got here? Today?”

Yuuri shook his head. 

“We’ve been gone for  _ at least  _ two days. She was here before we got caught.” Yuri rambled hurriedly. 

“But they wouldn’t take the dog… would they?” His expression skewed into disgust. 

“There’s no other explaination” Yuuri swallowed thickly, but he couldn’t  _ quite  _ get past the lump that settled in the middle of his throat. It felt like a baseball, heavy and obstructive. And he couldn’t  _ breathe _ . 

“Alright. We’re going to have to assume they have Makka for now. And we gotta go.” 

Yuuri nodded, taking a deep breath to try and get himself together. They needed to be on their toes, and that meant there wasn’t enough wiggle room for stupid mistakes like wording over things he couldn’t change.  

“Remember. Out the back, through the park and to Yakov’s house.” 

Yuuri nodded. 

“Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAKKA IS MIA. I REPEAT. MAKKA IS MIA.


	20. Chapter 20

_ “You’ve really messed with the wrong person. I need you to know that. To know that you did this to yourself.”  _

_ Kaprizov was fast but Victor was faster, moving with lightning speed to reach over across the table to grab Kaprizov’s left wrist as the man all but flung himself to the right before screaming bloody murder as his left shoulder popped out of its socket. The screaming amplified as Victor kicked the steel table hard sending Kaprizov careening backwards in panic as he tried to right himself and brace for the inevitable wave of pain that was going to hit once momentum caught up to the dislocated shoulder of the arm that Nikiforov hadn’t let go of yet.  _

_ “If I let go, you stay put.” Kaprizov yelped out an affirmative.  _

_ “Good. Stay.” Victor let go and then immediately latched back on with a painful tug as he caught the kick that was aimed at him. He wasted no time in bringing up his own leg before sending the foot he had on Kaprizov’s shin careening down, using the height to build up momentum as he brought the man’s bullet wounded leg hurtling down on the concrete floor.  _

_ The crack resounded in total silence for half a millisecond before the pain in.  _

_ And then he scream. He screamed and screamed and screamed. Victor was almost impressed that the man hadn’t passed out at that point once Victor stomped once more for good measure before crouching down to Kaprizov’s eye level, feeling smug satisfaction at the crazy eyes and cold sweat that adorned the dead man walking.  _

_ “You’re welcome.” He patted the obvious point of break.  _

_ “W-what the f-fuck?! Kaprizov tried to scramble back on his good leg only to be tugged harshly back.  _

_ “Let’s see. There’s Yakov and Yura. Yuuri. That’s (three) already. And then you burned down the whole rink that was like the backbone of my life so there’s that. Worth a whole spine. And then you take my dog you disgusting piece of shit. My fur baby. You’ve kidnapped her and hurt her. I could hear her outside. So that makes, what, four plus your entire spinal column. I could have broken all of that but I didn’t.” He started gently prodding.  _

_ “You’re fucking insane!” There was fear in Kaprizov’s eyes.  _

_ “Oh, I know. I know. Most of the skating community knows. Your friend knew. So does that make you stupid or just generally behind on the times.?” Kaprizov shrieked once more as Victor’s terrifying slender hands gripped tight, sending his nerves exploding in excruciating pain.  _

_ “Your skaters know too, going by the fact that no one’s come to collect you yet. Which means” he squeezed harder.  _

_ “You’ve got a few choices, Kaprizov. We can leave. Right now. All of your other bones in tact.”  _

_ Kaprizov choked, face turning redder as Victor continued to grip and ungrip.  _

_ “Or, I’ll get the rest of your team once they come to collect your cold corpse. Your choice.”  _

_ —— _

_ “Wait. Wait! Don’t shoot!”  _

_ “Yura?!”  _

_ There was a flurry of movement as strands of short black hair peeked out from behind the stairs on the second floor. _

_ “Yuuri…?”  _

_ “He’s here as well.”  _

_ Victor couldn’t do anything else but stare at the unsettlingly bizarre sight he was seeing from his spot at the foot of the stairs.  _

_ “Y-your hair…”  _

_ “I know. Kaprizov is a dead man after all of this.” he trailed off as the person behind Victor came into view.  _

_ “Son of a bitch.” he nearly threw himself down the stairs before a pair of strong arms pinned him in place, begging him to just calm down for a minute. And to think this through. _

_ “Yuuri?!” _

_ “Surprise.” it was flat but he couldn’t completely hide the relieved smile. _

_ Victor took a moment before pulling Kaprizov forward, disregarding the pained yelp as he tried his best to hobble forward.  _

_ “You have a lot of explaining to do.” _

_ “Where’s Yakov?” Yuri demanded, finally getting Yuuri to budge, albeit slowly down the stairs.  _

_ “I don’t know.” he said quietly, bowing his head, unable to meet their furious eyes.  _

_ “I’ll start with your knee this time.” Victor hissed, not even missing a beat.  _

_ “I really don’t.” Kaprizov gritted out, unable to meet anyone’s eyes.  _

_ “Kavais. He-he planned it all out.” _

_ “But you’re in the loop. You’re just as guilty as he is.” Victor pressed, anger steadily growing. _

_ “I know I am. But Kavais...This whole mess. No one thought he’d actually hurt anyone. Not this bad anyway.”  _

_ “Bullshit.” Yuri spat. _

_ “It’s true! He said he just wanted to return a favor. That’s all. We thought it was just to give you a little spook or something. Mess with your ‘perfect’ image a little. Not this. Nothing like this!” his eyes grew wide, almost pleading with the three to believe him.  _

_ “Why would I have let him shoot me in the leg? That wasn’t anywhere in the plans. But that’s just how he works. You saw him. He’s insane.” _

_ “But you chose to work with him anyway?!” Victor snarled back. _

_ “You knew he was crazy. He’s always been crazy. You made a deal with the devil, Kaprizov. Now you’ve got blood on your hands.”  _

_ There was frigid silence as Kaprizov took a few stumbled steps back before bumping into the door. Shock and fear blooming in his eyes as the realization struck. _

_  “I-it’s over. He’s not going to be able to come back after...that”  _

_ He and Victor held a knowing gaze, interacting in silence. _

_ “Yakov is still missing. So is your coach.” Yuuri spoke up, cutting through the silence.  _

_ “Not to mention the fact that Makka’s missing as well. And they’re going to want to know why the fuck there is no ice rink anymore.” Yuri added.  _

_ “They’re right.” Victor answered after a pause.  _

_ “It’s really not over yet, Kaprizov.” And without a single further moment of hesitation, he swung, and he swung hard and watched Kaprizov hit the ground with cold determined eyes devoid of any sympathy.  _

_.  _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will answer the question about every missing person! But also, be prepared for more violence/gore!  
> ALSO: Wow. Victor Nikiforov. What a B A D A S S


	21. Chapter 21

“So you killed him.” Yuri sat back in the familiar leather sofa in the familiar pale bluish grey walled living room surrounded by unfamiliar appearances and an  _ extremely  _ unwanted presence. But they were working with what they had, so it would just have to do. 

“He’s still breathing, but he won’t be a problem for a while.” Victor replied nonchalantly, holding a bag of ice to his jaw. It was beginning to mottle in a mix of yellows and purples, and so were a number of other bruises. They made the cuts and scrapes all along his face look like they were nothing.

Yuuri winced, looking away as he ran a stressed and shaky hand through his platinum locs. The bags under his eyes looked darker from the suddenly bright eye color for some reason. 

Yuri’s eyes narrowed once more as they drifted over to where Kaprizov sat, a little ways beside Victor who was casually fiddling a paring knife his free hand. He was cuffed to the man himself, something Victor had personally done as a means to make sure the traitor stayed put. Not that moving was much of a possibility with the duct tape around his legs and over a cuff on his wrists, but it was late and he was tired. Tired and still a little wired from his escape not so long ago, so he hopped over the line of paranoia straight to absolute distrust of the man which made his reasoning for the extra bonds sound logical. 

“They probably don’t know where Yakov’s place is, so we’re safe for now. But we need to start thinking ahead. We can’t stay here forever.” Victor grimaced.

"But if Kvais and _ that  _ bastard-" Yuri flicked a cold glare to Kaprizov. 

"-is technically missing and Kvais is out of play, what even is the threat? You said Kvais was the Mastermind behind this shit." Yuri argued. 

"But he's not dead. Neither of them are, so there's still a probability that there may be someone involved that we don't know about. And if it's this high up the ranks in terms of national teams, we can't go to the police either." Victor countered. 

"The rink burned down, and Yakov is missing. They're going to want to talk. Avoiding them is gonna make us look sketchy." Yuri fiddled with his sleeve, feeling far too jumpy as realization sunk in. 

They were the only ones there in the rink before it burned down. If Kaprizov was 'missing' the only logical explanation would be  _ them _ . Especially since no one really actually knew about Kvais. 

And if there  _ was  _ corruption somewhere in the police rank, it would help them regardless. 

They'd been holed up in Yakov's place for over five hours, taking a breather. Getting a shower and just generally regrouping, but they were running out of  _ time _ . 

**_Thud_ ** . 

Yuuri jumped. 

All eyes whipped towards the hall outside the living room. 

There was a moment of absolute frozen silence. No one even dared to breathe. 

It was broken by three gentle knocks down the hall from the front door. 

No one moved. 

The knocks came again. 

Victor made momentary eye contact with Yuuri before flitting a narrow eyed glare to Kaprizov who shook his head, eyes widening in Surprise and fear. 

"I don't know. I swear I don't know." 

Victor glared a moment longer before taking in a sharp breath. He stood without further though , tugging Kaprizov up by the cuffs none too gently. 

"The moment I open the door you freeze. Do I make myself clear?"

Kaprizov furvently. 

Victor picked up the metal bar that had been discarded against the arch frame, moving silently down the hall with a vice grip on the bat. 

The knocks sounded again. 

He peered out the peep hole before jolting back. 

"V _ itya _ ~ I know you're in there. I jus wanna talk" he wasn't slurring as much as the last time Victor had seen him. Less blood on his face for sure, but the black eye and broken nose amongst the other gruesome bruises looked the same, if not a little worse. 

The knocking was back but with more strength, followed by a solid kick. 

"Opn the fuckin door! I jus wanna talk !" 

Victor hesitated, readjusting his grip. 

"I brough you a gif-ft."

That definitely piqued Victor's interested. 

"See?"

There was quiet on the other side before he knocked once more. 

Victor peered back out the peep hole and immediately wished he hadn't. 

"I know Kapzov is gonna be  _ pissed  _ bu-" the man shrugged. .

"It's Chugunkin." Victor muttered, meeting Kaprizov's shocked expression. 

"He's live by the way." He kicked the barely conscious coach. 

"Imma count ta five and imma start pew pewin his limbs." 

Kaprizov looked like he was going to be sick. 

"Five." 

"It's a trap. You  _ can't  _ open the door." 

"Four."

"This is your  _ coach _ ! You can't just let him  _ die!"  _ Victor  _ hissed.  _

"Three."

"Shit.  _ Shit! _ " Victor spat, scratching through his hair in tense agitation. 

"Two." 

"Okay.  _ Okay!"  _ He in did the locks, throwing the door open.

He fumbled a moment as something dark flew at him. He caught it reflexively, fingers moving around on it before his mind even realized what it was that he was holding. 

And then he immediately dropped it, jerking back almost stumbling in haste as Kvais stepped forward to grab it, catching it mid fall with a hand wrapped in the sleeve of the oversized hoodie. 

And before anyone could react, he had the barrel pointed straight at Victor's head. 

"You know, I thought about this on the way here. How it would feel to jus shoot your brains out and walk over your cold corpse, but I had a better idea." 

And without any further warning he swung his arm around slightly and fired off three successive shots into Chugunkin's head, leaving the man dead and bleeding out on Yakov's doorstep. 

"Oh, looks like they're here on time for once." 

That's when Victor heard it, stiffening next to a shocked and terrified Kaprizov who had both hands over his mouth, eyes bugging in shock as he stared at Chugunkin's lifeless body. 

The sirens were getting closer. They'd be arriving within moments. 

And then Victor realized what was about to happen. 

Kvais's hands weren't even shaking as he held the gun to his forehead, both thumbs hooked around the trigger. 

"See you in hell, Vitya." 

Victor lunged as the Kvais pulled the trigger, smile on his face. 

He was lifeless before he hit the ground, leaving Victor standing over his bruised and battered corpse. 

Time froze. 

And then it rushed back, painfully pressing against his temples as the waves of nausea and white hot terror melded together to course through his veins, sending his heart pounding in overdrive. 

"Hands up! Step away from the bodies!"

Kaprizov prodded Victor with a small kick, anchoring Victor just long enough for the man to do as he was told. 

"Victor Nikiforov, you are hereby under arrest for the murders of Anton Chugunkin, Johann Kvais, and Yakov Feltsman. 

  
  
  
  
  



	22. Chapter 22

"POLICE! STEP OUT WITH YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD!" 

there was a second of ominous quiet before they heard movement from the living room down the hall. 

The team that had been dispatched into the house left three armed officers at the ready, every gun pointed at Victor who looked considerably more pale than a few moments prior in the living room. 

He looked exhausted, emotionally flat but the way his eyes kept jumping to the bloody corpses lying around him gave everything away. 

He was  _ terrified _ . 

This was most certainly  _ not  _ in any of the frankly crazy possibilities his mind had come up with in the last few hours. 

Nowhere in his twenty some odd years alive had he  _ ever  _ even  _ entertained  _ the possible scenario of being framed for a bloody murder let alone  _ three _ . That a burglary in the middle of the competition season would find him standing over the deceased national hockey team's coach or the fact that he'd find out that Yakov was  _ dead  _ by police officers arresting  _ him  _ for the death? 

Nothing even remotely close, and it shook him. 

Shook him deep in his core where he was still trying to digest the fact that Yakov was apparently dead. 

_ Yakov _ . His coach. The man who practically raised him for most of his life. The father figure in his life. 

The man was  _ dead _ and it was apparently  _ his  _ fault. 

_ Christ _ . 

He couldn't do this. He wasn't strong enough. Not mentally. Definitely not emotionally. Not in the condition he was in, running on adrenaline and reserve energy just barely holding up under the immense stress of the past few hours alone.  

So he started to zone out. 

Didn't fight when one of the officers cut the cuff that connected himself and Kaprizov. 

He didn't resist when he was roughly cuffed himself, hands behind his back as he was frog marched to the back of one of the police cars. 

He just barely noticed the movement by the front door but by the time he realized what he was seeing, the car had started to move, driving him helplessly away from Yuuri and Yuri who stared, hands behind their heads beside Kaprizov as the car drove away. 

But he did see the other police cars catch up eventually as they sped through St. Petersburg's morning rush hour, sirens blaring flashing red and blue. 

_________

"Your fingerprints are all over the gun, Nikiforov. You can't deny that." 

Victor nodded, sighing tiredly. 

"I'm not denying that. What I'm  _ trying  _ to say is that I didn't pull the trigger. I  _ didn't  _ kill Johann Kvais, and I  _ certainly  _ didnt kill Chugunkin. I have no reason to."

"Revenge maybe? Your coach Yakov Feltsman have had spats with Chugunkin in the past."

"So you're saying that I killed Chugunkin to avenge Yakov and then decided to kill Yakov too? That doesn't make any sense!" He hissed, nearing the tipping point. 

They'd been at this for the past two hours and the flickering light reflecting off of the cold steel table was starting to give him a headache. Not to mention the fatigue that had hit him the moment they closed the bars of the holding cell he'd been shoved in. 

He was tired and stressed and emotionally wrung out, still unable to come to terms with Yakov's alleged death. 

He could still smell the stench of blood surrounding him. Could still see the small jerk of Chugunkin's nerves as three bullets entered his head. The way he almost deflated, going ominously still on the cold ground while his blood began to pool around his head in a crimson puddle. Kvais's crazed blue eyes moments before he pulled the trigger, cursing Victor. All of it, every detail was imprinted onto the back of his eyelids so every blink. Every moment he closed his eyes even for the shortest seconds, he saw it over and over and over again. 

But he was just  _ so tired _ . He could help as his eyes fluttered shut against the bright lights. A

"It's certainly a possibility. Especially since Feltsman had taken you off of his pick for the national team." 

Victor's eyes flew open once the words caught up to him. 

"What did you just say?'

The officer slid a file over, motioning for Victor to take a look. 

He grabbed it gingerly, sliding it over before opening it on the table. 

They say in silence as Victor looked over the documents. 

"This-this can't be right…" disbelief colored the hushed reaction. 

"He submitted those two weeks ago." 

"No." Victor shook his head as he tore his eyes from the page.

"That doesn't make sense. That would mean he'd had known before the Goodwill clinic with the hockey team and the sponsors gala." 

The officer nodded. 

"No, you don't understand. The sponsors gala was for  _ national team members _ . That's the whole point. He would have told me before then. I would have  _ known  _ before then and my sponsorships would have changed." 

"As you've probably noticed, I am not a figure skater or involved in the skating world in general, Mr. Nikiforov. I'm simply stating the facts. There is official documentation from Feltsman that puts you out of the national team. That is more than enough reason to have suspicions about motives. Especially with the rink being burned down." The officer leveled. 

"I would  _ never  _ touch Yakov, and the rink was like my second home. I trained there for more than half my life. I wouldn't be able to do so in my right mind!" Victor pushed, steadying the confused anger that was starting to grow. 

The nerve. 

The absolute  _ audacity _ . 

"So what's left is that you  _ aren _ 't in your right mind. Isn't that so, Mr. Nikiforov?" The officer shrugged once more, quirking a brow, almost challenging Victor for a response. 

"That's what Mr. Katsuki stated a few minutes ago, anyway."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG GUYS!!! CHAOS IS UNFOLDING!?


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So before you read any further, I'd just like to take this time to say that I am so so so so so so SO sorry for what's about to happen. I don't regret it, but I did feel awful when I wrote it but it's a necessary part of the plot!
> 
> Also, shout out to all of you who've left me comments, thank you all so much for continuing to follow the story! It honestly makes my day to hear what you think about the chapter, so don't feel like it isn't worth it, bc it is to me! <3

“If you truly believe in your heart of hearts that you can just sit there and lie to my face about Yuuri Katsuki, my  _ husband  _ of all people, you’re in for a gut punch from reality.” Victor practically spat, finally able to make out the words from where his train of thought had completely veered off track, tumbling down the sharp cliff of reality as the officer’s words registered in his head. 

“I’m not lying, Mr. Nikiforov. But you can believe what you want. But know that there was a reason for Mr. Katsuki’s early release.”

“Of course they’re going to let him go. He’s done nothing  _ wrong _ . And Yuri can’t just be alone after all of this.” 

“So you admit that  _ you’ve  _ done something wrong?” 

“Don’t get my words twisted, Officer Stepenov. I haven’t said that.” he hissed, staring the young officer down. 

“Look, Mr. Nikiforov. It doesn’t have to be this difficult. You’re only digging yourself deeper. We can work out some sort of deal. I’m sure of it. Especially with your status.” 

“There is  _ nothing  _ to work out because I haven’t done anything  _ wrong _ ! I haven’t killed anyone and I didn’t burn down my own rink. All I did was protect my family.” 

Things weren’t going well. Victor could tell by the sudden inclusion of his husband. He knew what they were doing. It was pure manipulation through and through. Use his unconventional relationship with the most important person in his life to force some sort of confession out of him so that all of this could be shut down without further issue. It looked bad for both parties, even the police, and he was more than sure that they were more than willing to do what was needed to soften the fallout. 

But he wasn’t about to just roll over and beg. 

No. 

After everything that had happened in the past few days, he was ready to fight tooth and nail. He didn’t have much more to lose, what with the fire and Yakov’s assumed death. 

And he knew that Yuuri and Yuri would never really forgive him if he just let everything go. They’d suffered too, especially Yuri, and Victor wasn’t about to let that go to waste. 

“Actually, Mr. Nikiforov. On the topic of families…” Stepenov flicked through the file in front of him.

“Ahah! Here it is.” he nodded triumphantly before slamming it down on the steel table, flipping it around so that it was right side up for Victor. 

“Funny that you mentioned protecting your family, or whatever your domestic situation would be called.” 

Victor prickled at the veiled homophobic insinuation.

“We’ve actually been meaning to come talk even before you were arrested.” 

Stepenov leaned back in his seat, settling Victor with a curious stare. 

“As of three days ago, we received a report about a possible breaking and entering case at Mr. Plisetsky’s home around two fifteen Monday morning.”

Victor stilled in shock at the sudden announcement. 

“The next door neighbor said that they witnessed someone climbing in through the balcony. She saw a “medium heighted man with light hair dressed in all black”.”

Victor narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t like where this conversation was headed…

“Said that he was slim but more athletic than anything since he all but hauled himself up to the second floor and vaulted over the balcony fence.”

“What does this have to do with me?” 

“Well, we checked up on it and we got real lucky. There was an active CCTV camera just outside Mr. Plisetsky’s apartment complex. We managed to get a few useable shots off of it.” he pulled out four black and white photos, handing them over with a shrug.

_ Oh… _

“So it’s only natural to be a little suspicious, Mr. Nikiforov.”

“That’s not me!” 

“Well whoever it is looks awfully a lot like you, doesn’t he?” 

Victor stared back down at the photos, blood rushing to his head making him feel dizzy. This was just  _ too  _ good to be a coincidence. 

And as much as he hated to admit, it really  _ did  _ look like him with the same fair hair and toned athletic build. He was even roughly the same height and had an  _ eerily  _ similar side profile. 

“But we were too late and no one was there when the police finally arrived. All that was left was broken glass and chaos. Mr. Plisetsky was gone.” 

“Yeah, I know. He walked all the way over to my home. Knocked on the door at four in the morning when I was  _ sleeping _ . Makka was there and so was Katsuki.” he steeled himself. Things were going to get turbulent. He’d need to keep his cool.

“Well, with Mr. Katsuki being your legal partner, his testimony doesn’t hold as much weight as an unknown stranger. So that leaves you unaccounted for all the way up until four in the morning. That’s two hours after the break in. You could have made it back in time even if you walked.” 

“I’ve trained with Plisetsky for  _ years _ . I consider him to be family, and I would  _ never. Ever _ . Try to intentionally harm him.”

“You’re competitors, and going back to the national team lineup, Mr. Plisetsky remained on the list while you didn’t. It’s just too much of a coincidence.” 

“I’ve competed for more than fifteen years. Even  _ if _ I had to sit a season out I wouldn’t resort to trying to wipe out other skaters. And if I harbored any sort of bad blood against Plisetsky, I could have acted sooner. I could have just gotten him injured on ice. Why would I go all the way out of my way to harm him in his own home?” 

This was getting nowhere and he was starting to get angry.  _ Really  _ angry. He felt his blood rush through his veins at what felt like a thousand miles per hour, sending his heart into overdrive. 

“So why didn’t you report it?” 

And all at once his racing thoughts came to an abrupt stop, crashing painfully in his head. 

“What?”

“I said, if you really considered Plisetsky to be family, and if it really wasn’t you in the photos, why didn’t you report it? Why didn’t Plisetsky report it?” 

“It’s not illegal to not report. Plisetsky had his reasons and I respected him enough to give him the choice.”

Stepenov quirked a brow. 

“Okay.” he shrugged, leaning forward again, leaning forward on his forearms. 

“Let’s say that it  _ wasn’t _ you and there really  _ was  _ a logical explanation as to why none of you reported the crime. The  _ entire  _ national hockey team banded together to work to bring you down because their captain, Kaprizov, was contacted by an old friend with a 16 year vendetta. So they decided on vengeance together through, what, pure jealousy. They kidnapped Plisetsky and Katsuki,  _ and  _ your dog and held them hostage until you overpowered-uh” the officer glanced down at his notes.

“-until you overpowered Kvais from a fist fight and waited for Kaprizov so that you could use him to escape, after which you ran to hide out at Yakov Feltsman’s home, breaking and entering nonetheless. Plisetsky and Katsuki just happened to be there as well, and so was Kaprizov because you kept him cuffed to you so as to not escape.” 

The man continued monotone.

“And then half a day later Kvais tracked you down in his  _ severely  _ concussed state, dragging Chugunkin along as a hostage having called to report a murder. He requested you open the door, and you and Kaprizov argued over it but Chugunkin’s life was on the line so you opened the door and immediately caught the gun that Kvais tossed you? And then he shot Chugunkin in the head three times before shooting himself point blank on the forehead.”

Victor sat impassively, not breaking eye contact. 

“Am I missing anything?” 

Victor didn’t reply. 

Stepenov clapped his hands together with a sigh.

“I think we’re done here.” he grabbed the loose papers and photos, stacking them neatly in the file before standing. 

“You can have your call before they move you to holding.”

Victor tensed his jaw, frozen to the spot as the finality of the interrogation sunk in.

“Oh, and Mr. Nikiforov, maybe it  _ was  _ better that you were taken off the roster. I’m sure the Russfed would have had a field day. At least this way you can retire in relative silence.”

* * *

 

“Yuri?” Victor looked up in shock.

“We’re leaving. Katsuki’s posted bail.” he sounded oddly calm, unable to look away from where Victor sat up against the wall behind the bars of the holding cell.

Victor wasted no time in getting up, scrubbing a hand down his face and running a hand through his hair to try and fix his disheveled state. 

He was still in the dark joggers and loose long sleeve t-shirt from Tuesday. His sleeves were still crusted with dried blood from when he’d beat Kvais and Kaprizov, and the bags under his eyes looked intense.

Anxiety bubbled in his gut with every step towards the front desk.  

They weren’t safe. 

Not yet. 

It didn’t matter that Kvais was gone. There was something… something that he was missing. Something wasn’t adding up, and until he figured it out they were in danger.

“Here are your items.” the man sitting at the front desk handed Victor a sealed baggie containing his phone and what looked to be a scrunched up sticky note.

“Thank you.” he answered neutrally, keeping his eyes down. 

“I brought your car.” Yuuri grabbed a sliver of Victor’s sleeve, freezing for half a second at the blood before pulling the man to follow him.   

“I’ll drive.” he continued, walking straight out the door to the parking lot and into the driver’s seat, buckling his seatbelt before deflating, dropping in the cup holders. 

“It’s not over yet. Something’s wrong.” he whispered, turning to stare at Victor with a mix of desperation and fear.

Victor just sat, staring straight ahead, biting his lip. 

So it wasn’t just him after all… Something really  _ was  _ wrong.

“Vitya, look at me.” he felt Yuuri’s hands gripping his left arm in a vice. He turned slowly, trying to squash the panic that was starting to build. 

“There’s something wrong. Something is really  _ really  _ wrong.” 

“He’s right. It’s been weird as fuck for the past couple of hours. Ever since we were all taken to the station.” Yuri added quietly. 

“Did they question you two?” Victor finally broke his silence, waiting with baited breath.

“That’s the thing. They didn’t. They only took you. They didn’t even  _ bother  _ logging us in. They just held us for ten minutes and told us we were free to go, but they took Kaprizov. We’ve been sitting across the station at that cafe over there for  _ hours _ , but Kaprizov never came out.” 

“They took Kaprizov?” Victor repeated, bewildered at the turn of events. 

Yuuri nodded. 

“He looked like he  _ really  _ didn’t want to go but they escorted him down the hall where they took you.” 

Victor sat stunned at the new information. 

“ _ Oh my god… _ ” he whispered in terror. 

“It wasn’t Kvais...” 

The temperature took a swan dive. 

“Excuse me?” Yuuri’s eyes narrowed in disbelief.

“It wasn’t Kvais. There’s someone else involved. Kvais and Kaprizov were just distractions.” Victor’s eyes widened in horror. 

“That doesn’t make any sense! You saw the man yourself. He shot me and he burned the rink down. It’s him!” Yuri retorted. 

Victor shook his head, turning to Yuri abruptly. 

“They know about the break in.” 

“What?”

“The break in. The break in at your place. They know about it. Your next door neighbor. She filed a report because she saw the whole break in.” 

“Okay, and?” 

“She thought it was me.” 

Yuri froze in shock, staring at the man with pure disbelief. 

“The front entrance had a CCTV and the back and side profile fit me.”

“But it wasn’t you! You were at home when I got out.” 

“I told them that. But the suspicion was on the fact that none of us reported the crime. They think I did it to sabotage you out of jealousy because Yakov took me off of the national team roster.” 

“What?!” Yuuri exclaimed, flinching back.

“No. That can’t be true. You were on the team roster for the sponsors gala.” 

“I told them that as well. But it was an official Russfed document. They thought that that was my motivation to kill Yakov as well.”

There was a chilly moment of silence before Yuri cracked. 

“I-is he really...is he-”

Victor shook his head. 

“They’re assuming his dead because of Chugunkin and Kvais.”

The blonde let out a shaky breath. 

“It’s not looking good.” he sighed, rubbing at his temples. 

“So what do we do now?” Yuuri whispered, readjusting so he was staring forward again, hands gripping the steering wheel.

“We wait.”

* * *

 

“Take a shower, Vitya. It’ll be good for you. And get out of those clothes. Just throw them away.” Yuuri pushed the front door open, toeing his shoes off. 

Yuri followed close behind, mimicking the older’s actions. 

 Victor grunted in agreement, shutting the door quietly behind him, doing all the locks before toeing his own shoes off, slowly but surely one at a time. 

“What the fuck…?”

Victor paused, left shoe half way off.

“V-Victor!? Oh god…” Yuuri inhaled sharply. 

Victor rushed to the living room, abandoning his shoe at the front of the hall.

“What is it? What hap-”

The words died on his tongue as he noticed the source of surprise. 

Yuri stood next to Yuuri a good distance away, staring warily at what looked like a big red and white striped birthday box, tied up with an equally big shimmery gold bow.

Victor couldn’t tear his gaze away. 

“ _ Shit _ .” he cursed under his breath, pausing a moment longer before moving slowly towards the box. 

He hesitated again, lithe fingers gripping the sides of the top, taking a shaky breath before pulling the top off revealing what was inside. 

The top made a solid thunk when it fell out of Victor’s slack hand onto the floor.

And all at once Victor regained his senses and promptly flew backwards, stumbling over his own feet as his legs turned to jelly.

He hit the ground full force, tearing a pained grunt from his chest but he just kept scooting back, trying to put as much distance as he could between himself and the box until he hit a wall.

And then he stared in silent wide eyed shock, hands over his mouth and nose as he started to hyperventilate, tears springing to his eyes. 

“N-n-no. Nyet.  _ Nyet _ .  _ Nyet _ ! He shook his head in vehement  _ terror _ , breaking down into sobs as he curled into himself. 

Yuuri all but flung himself at Victor, pulling the man in a tight embrace, letting Victor cling to him, heaving with sobs. He completely missed Yuri stepping forward. 

“Oh my god…”

He looked up in time to see Yuri flinch back, looking like he was going to be sick, or vomit. Whichever would come first. 

“I-it’s Makka.” Yuri stared back at the older skater, looking petrified. 

Victor froze, tears still streaming down his face, wracked with sobs, before patting his pockets in concerning desperation before pulling out the items baggie, still sealed like it had been back at the station. 

He wasted no time in tearing it open, all but chucking his phone to the side to grab the scrunched up blue sticky note, straightening it out on his leg with shaky hands. His eyes darted across the small blue square, reading and rereading before it slipped from his hands as he keeled over on his knees, heaving up bile shaking like a leaf.

_ You used to say that a good set of puppy dog eyes could save you from anything. Hope mine's better this time around. xo _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @KatsuDauntless - I really wanted to respond to your comment on the last chapter but I figured it would be better to just give you a full surprise! It's defo not going to be one of those government scheme/plots. 
> 
> *I'm terrible, I know!


	24. Chapter 24

The box was packed with blood red roses. Exactly 57. Squeezed tight within the sizeable square box, beautifully cushioning the  _ awfully _ gruesome ‘gift’ of Makka’s very dead, open eyed  _ stuffed  _ head..

Like someone had chopped it right off where her collar would sit, preserving the healthy plumpness and soft shiny curls *like those taxidermy animals they’d seen at the natural history museum last summer. 

She was  _ dead _ .

This was his fault.

_ All  _  of it.

Not being able to protect Yuri like he was  _ supposed  _ to, for starters. Like a big brother he didn’t deserve to be anymore. And the rink. And Chugunkin and-  _ christ _ . And Yakov, wherever the man  _ actually _ was.

And then there was Kaprizov.

Had he really been  _ that  _ blind all along? That foolish to believe that the man was actually on his side to begin with? 

That  _ anyone  _ would be on his side to begin with? Had he learned  _ nothing  _ from those hellish pre-debut days?

Kvais had been a learning experience, like morsels of precious but cursed wisdom only earned through pain and the terror of near death.

How could he have forgotten? How the  _ fuck  _ had he wiped an entire friendship out of his memory?

Of course the man would be angry. 

Sixteen years was a long time coming, but in all honesty, Victor couldn’t say he didn’t understand where the man was coming from. 

What had driven him all the way to the brink of insanity. The  _ fury  _ that must have been aging, rising degree by damn degree day in and day out in knowing that he really  _ had  _ been thrown away. 

And at the time, Victor was young but that wasn’t enough to forgive the transgression. And to his growing horror, years upon years of buried guilt came spewing out of his gut like poison slicked monsters of the night, clawing their way out painfully sending shockwaves of emotions rocking through the man. 

Regret.

Embarrassment. 

Disappointment. 

_ Fear. _

His hands shook, frozen in place mere centimeters from Makka’s soft curls, unable to work through the raw pain of it all. 

What had he  _ done _ …?!

He'd single handedly killed his, then, best friend's dreams and future through his own negligence and selfishness and then effectively cut the guy out of his own life in what he now understood was a  _ disgusting  _ act of self preservation. 

Ending someone else's dreams was one thing, but putting his own in danger was a completely different matter. 

At least that was what he'd thought, what his actions explained on his behalf. 

And now, standing over the poisoned fruit of his labor, Victor came to an uncomfortable realization that he couldn't hide it anymore. Couldn't just bury it under all the good deeds he'd done to try and trick his own self into realizing the truth.

The brutally honest truth was that Johann Kvais had been right. 

He, Victor Nikiforov, Russia's treasure, wasn't all he seemed to be. 

There was a darkness lurking within that Victor actively worked to hide away, but Kvais had seen it. Perhaps that was why they worked so well together. Why they caught on so quickly. 

Like a match to a forest doused in petrol.

The flames burned hot and bright, but it was smothering. Killing everything in its path, absorbing the very oxygen around so that nothing would survive. 

They weren't ever meant to survive together. That had been clear. 

They were just  _ too  _ similar. 

_ Too  _ talented. 

Burned a little  _ too  _ bright for the comfort of those around them.

So it was only expected that they would burn until there was nothing left. 

And that's when Victor dropped him. Burned the bridge with the very fire the boy had gifted him, too afraid and too selfish to realize at the time that he only survived because Kvais had no intention of  _ ever  _ doing that himself. 

Yeah, he'd been a little rough around the edges, a little more aggressively competitive than the other kids. Johann was talented. That much was obvious. 

But so was Victor, and Johann respected that. And with almost every friendship in the sporting world, there was bound to be some friendly rivalry. 

But ultimately, even with the leaked photos and the following backlash, Kvais had never  _ once  _ used Victor as a defense, even with the  _ too  _ perfect opportunity. 

The phone  _ was  _ Victor's after all. And it wasn't like Johann had been  _ alone  _ in those photos. Victor had been there too. 

And as glaringly obvious as it was, and so  _ so  _ unfair, Kvais tried his best to stay afloat on his own merit, and in a weird way, that had Victor all the more worried and scared, but not enough for him to have stuck  his own neck out for his friend. 

He just lurked back to the shadows and waited, because it would be over eventually. 

And whether or not he'd done it because he really wanted to, the shadows didn't allow for any bright connections, so he cut Johann off. Like the guy had never existed. He didn't think about Johann, didn't follow the news cycle. 

And from that point on, the name, Johann Kvais, never left his mouth again.

And slowly but surely, things  _ did  _ get better. 

He graduated from juniors and leaped into the senior circuit like a grenade, making his mark and his debut all at once.

And with the new found Fame and winnings, he hadn't even realized that he'd forgotten about Kvais.

But to be fair, no one really mentioned the guy as time went by. 

Like he disappeared. 

Like he never  _ existed _ . 

But he had existed. Of course he had. Had existed but he was a dead man walking, waiting for the right time to drag Victor to hell with him, killing Victor one step at a time with the hope that he'd be left as a dead man walking as well. 

Johann Kvais had been beyond  _ requesting  _ penance. Sixteen years and he reappeared with the single solitary objective of exacting the deserved penance and punishment. 

But  _ this _ …

He felt chills race down his spine as his fingers finally brushed against the soft curls, unable to stop as they pressed further, scratching softly at the  _ too  _ cold skin under all the fur.

His gut did flips as his brain registered, belatedly, the unnaturally stiffness and coldness. He couldn't bring himself to look into the glassy eyes. 

So was really gone…

Makka. Chugunkin. Kvais. Possibly even Yakov. 

The blood on his hands could probably stain the entire rink red. 

But something was amiss. 

Something wasn't  _ right _ . 

The entire situation just felt  _ too  _ unbalanced. Too unstsble. 

This couldn't be it. It couldn't have been the end to Kvais's plot. 

There were just too many factors unaccounted for. 

Especially with his death. 

What had he said? That his original plan was to kill Victor but that he'd decided on changing the plan last minute?

So there were technically two plans, and they were now playing on the second route with the  _ other  _ plan. 

But why kill Chugunkin?

Even Kaprizov hadn't been ready for that. 

And on the topic of the traitor, where was Kaprizov now? Where was the team? 

We're the police in on it as well? Was that how the note got into Victor's belongings?

It couldn't have been Kvais. 

While his memories of the, then best friend, were still a little hazy, he  _ did  _ remember having a conversation on the topic of puppy dog eyes. 

With who? He couldn't place it, but it had happened and most certainly  _ not  _ with Kvais.

So was it someone else? Was there another person involved? 

How fucking wide was this web going to be?

Think.

_ Think!  _

He just needed to  _ think _ . 

It was someone he knew. Someone in the distant but not as far back as Kvais, time in his life. 

Someone close ish, if the topic of conversation was anything to go by.

Who was it? 

Who could it  _ possibly  _ be?!

His eyes narrowed in irritation as a sudden wave of anger reared up.

Just what sort of sick twisted  _ shit  _ was he playing against? 

He couldn't have deserved  _ all  _ of this? It just wasn't  _ fair _ !

And all at once he regained his senses, shoved back into reality.

He stumbled, a yelp of shock ripping from his gut. Color left his face as his hand flew off of the soft chocolate brown curls like he'd been electrocuted. 

"Victor? Vitya what happened? What was tha-" 

Yuuri froze, coming to an abrupt stop a little ways behind where Victor stood rooted in shock, visibly shaking.

"Oh my god. Is-is that-"

"That's so fucked up." Yuri piped up from beside Yuuri, grimacing.

_ -Vorrei serrare nel gelo le mani che scrivono quei versi d'ardente passione- _

The muffled song continued.

Victor took a shaky step forward, trembling hands outreached.

"W-wait! Vitya, no!" Yuuri stepped toward Victor ignored the request, moving almost hypnotically toward the box.

_ -stammi vicino, te ne _ andare-

The music became less muffled as Victor gently lifted Makka's head, flipping it gingerly looking like he was going to be sick.

He saw the loose black suture thread and tugged, popping the string. He pulled the rest off quickly, rushing to bring things to an end. He was reaching his limit. 

The phone fell out the moment the last part of suture thread came loose, allowing for the water proof case enclosed phone to slip out, blaring the remaining few verses on the highest volume, shattering the quiet of their living room.

**_Unknown_ **

He hesitated a moment longer before answering, setting the call on speaker. 

"Who is this?!" Victor demanded right away.

There was a moment of static with no reply.

"Answer me! Who-"

" _ Vitya _ ?" It was muffled but there was no mistaking just who it was calling. 

" _ Vitya? Can you hear me? You're alive! What abo-are you all safe? Hello?"  _

Yuri rushed forward, matching Victor's expression of utter shock.

Yuuri hung back, hands covering his mouth in shock as relieved tears flooded his eyes.

"Yakov?! Yakov, is that you? Where are you?! Oh my god.  _ T-thank- oh my god!  _ We're all here. We're together back at home" Victor blinked back the tears. Not right now. He needed to be sure.

" _ Hello? Can you hear me? Hello? Vitya I'm -"  _

And all at once, the call disconnected plunging them back into  cold  _ cold  _ silence.

"No.  _ No _ !  _ Fuck _ ! Victor shouted, hurling the phone at the sofa in anger. 

Such a brief moment of hope only for it to be taken away again. 

He was going to die of heart complications at this rate. 

He took a few deep breaths, trying to reign in the growing fury before he set Makka gently back down in the box, crouching on his haunches to lean up against the coffee table, hands curled on the cold smooth marble top as his pressed his forehead against the coldness of the side. 

He needed to pull himself together. It wasn't over.

Yakov was alive. 

That was a start. 

Yakov was alive but he had the number to the mystery phone that was sewn into Makka's taxidermied head. 

What was the connection?

_ -Vorrei serrare nel gelo le mani che scrivono quei versi d'ardente passione-  _

All eyes whipped over to the sofa where the screen lit up once more, blaring Stammi Vicino.

Yuuri rushed this time, answering in silence before putting the phone on speaker. 

There was rustling on the other side, like the sound of someone moving, the dampened sound of fabric against fabric in motion. 

" _ Hello _ ?  _ Nikiforov? Katsuki? P-Plisetsky? Hello? Please! Please, someone answer!"  _ It was whispered, breathless and anxious.

" _ Please! I-I'm so sorry I'm sorry! I-I'll make it up to you I promise! I'll-I'll retire and stay out of your sight forever, just please please help!"  _

The fear tinged words struck a nerve, and Yuuri couldn't help but answer.

"Kaprizov?" 

" _ Hello? Yes. Yes! Thank you. Thank you thank you! K-katsuki?" _

"Mhm. Where are you right now?" 

There was a muffled curse before Kaprizov answered. 

" _ They released me four hours ago and told me they'd drive me back home. I didn't-i declined and then there was a bag over my head and they gave me something and shoved me into the trunk-"  _

Victor looked up from his crouched position, meeting somber glanced with Yuuri who kept quiet. 

"I woke up at the rink. My rink. And-and they're- it's not all of them but someone-" his voice cracked, but he swallowed thickly and continued. 

"The guys who were on duty to watch you all, they're dead.  _ Jesus _ there was so much  _ blood _ ."

"Are you safe?!" Yuuri exclaimed, eyes wide at the implications of Kaprizov's report. 

Someone who  _ wasn't  _ Kvais was starting to clear the gameboard so to speak.

" _ I'm running because I'm next. I'm next! I know it! I just know it! I'm going to die!"  _ Fear morphed into terror which snowballed into sobs. 

Terrified sobs as Kaprizov continued to run from the mysterious threat. 

" _ I don't know where to go. Please, help me! _ " 

Yuuri met Victor's eyes once more sharing a silent conversation before Yuri cut in.

"No. Niet. Absolutely not. Are you out of your fucking  _ mind _ ?!" He hissed, glaring at the phone. 

"He's a  _ traitor.  _ He's been in on this the entire time, and now the tables have turned and he's got nowhere to go like he  _ deserves _ . Let the bastard die. He chose this." 

They lapsed into a beat of frigid silence before Victor took a shaky breath, leveling the phone with a steely glare. .

"How did you get this number?" It was neutral but so  _ so  _ cold. 

"Nikiforov?! You're not at-"

"I said-" Victor repeated, cutting him off completely. 

"-how did you get this phone number,

?"

"It-it was on this sticky note in my things when I was released…" 

_ Oh _ …

"Where are you right now?"

"I'm passing your-uh-your rink right now."

"Ok."

Yuri narrowed his eyes at the tone. He already knew what was coming and he did  _ not  _ approve. 

"You know where our home is."

"Y-yes. Yes! I do!,"

The utter hopeful and also thankful change of tone cut into Yuuri. 

The desperation was more than a little bleeding heart pitiful.

"Let's make one thing clear, Kaprizov." Victor replied, plunging Kaprizov back to his somber place. 

"If I do much as  _ feel  _ any sort of strangeness or funny business, I  _ will not  _ hesitate to end you myself. You understand? I don't trust you but I won't be having another death on my hands."

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *possible fluffy one shot
> 
> ALSO 
> 
> Okay, it doesn't really matter you guy guys since you didn't know the end game to begin with, but after bouncing plot ideas around with friends, I've changed the ending WHICH MEANS, this story is going to be a little longer than originally anticipated and it's going to get even more intense.  
> But there IS a plot and end game. I promise!


	25. Chapter 25

The knock came precisely thirty-two minutes after the bizarre and frankly  _ traumatizing _ turn of events with the calls. 

Thirty-two minutes and forty-nine seconds. 

Yuri was counting, turquoise eyes following the maddening second by second ticking of the monochromatic steel clock hanging in the living room where the three sat, all conspicuously looking everywhere but at the red and white box Victor grasped in his hands, thankfully  _ with  _ the top on, sitting innocently on his lap.  

They sat around the living room, each taking up their own corners of the sofas as they waited, unwilling to break the fragile silence as they all worked to digest the bizarre and frankly terrifying events that had occurred within the past few hours, not knowing what else to think.

The past was terrifying, but the future even more so with so much instability around them. 

So when the knock came, it took a few moments for any of them to rouse themselves from their shell shocked flittering thoughts. 

It was Victor who stood, readjusting his hold on the box to one arm. And then hee moved to the kitchen, rummaging for a moment. The two heard the soft sound of a drawer open and close before they heard Victor’s equally soft footfall move toward the front hall to unlock the door. 

They heard the door open and then slam shut, but it didn’t hide the strangely muffled clacking noises. 

_ “ _ _ Я не думаю, что он мертв.”( _ I don’t think he is dead.)

It was quiet but Yuri couldn’t help but snap out of his daze as he picked up on the muttered words. 

_ “В его голове была кровавая дыра.” _ (There was a bloody hole in his head) Victor replied, just a little  _ too  _ apathetically. Like it  _ didn’t _ actually happen only a few hours prior. 

Like it  _ hadn’t  _ shaken him to the core. 

Yuri heard Victor’s quiet footfalls followed by a sudden rush of pitter-patter and creaking of floorboards, and then a louder sharp hiss of surprise.

“ _ Я не лгал. _ ”(I wasn’t lying.) There was no hesitation. No waver whatsoever. Just cold emptiness. 

Like he wasn’t entirely  _ there  _ just yet, probably stuck somewhere in between shock and exhaustion.

A solid minute of silence passed before there was movement again, and it  _ wasn’t  _ Victor’s footsteps.

 That much became obvious the moment a familiar shock of blonde hair came into view. 

“ Сидеть.”(sit) Yuri mumbled neutrally, gesturing to the empty sofa to his right from where he sat on the single seater. 

He noted the  _ obvious  _ discomfort in the way he stood awkwardly at a distance. 

And so had Yuuri if the silent but serious stare was anything to go by. But Yuuri didn’t budge an inch from where he sat on the loveseat across from the empty sofa Victor had vacated moments before. 

Kaprizov gingerly took a seat, keeping his eyes fixed resolutely on the ground under his boot clad feet. 

He didn’t have time to react before he saw Victor’s own boots step into a parallel line with his own, sudden  _ too  _ close. His eyes darted up just in time to see a sudden projectile shoved in his direction. He grabbed it on reflex, sinking back into the plush seat from the force of impact.

Victor just crossed his arms and leaned back on top of the coffee table, boring into Kaprizov’s head with the near glacial blue eyes of his. But he didn’t say a word, leaving Kaprizov to flounder for what to do.

So against his his screaming brain, he slowly but surely tore back to the lid, almost dropping the box itself in shock. 

“ _ Christ _ .” he hissed, replacing the top with shaky hands. 

“She was at the rink when you and Kvais were there.” Victor didn’t even bat an eye, but his words burned with  frigid grief and fury.

He took a shaky breath, staring at Kaprizov while Kaprizov resolutely looked away.

“I-I’m sorry. I’m so  _ so  _ sorry, but this wasn’t me. I swear it!” 

Victor scoffed a derisive laugh, face morphing with scary speed from mock amusement to a calm rage, like a winter ocean before a storm.

“You could swear to Lucifer himself and it would be equally as meaningless,  _ captain _ .” he spat back, studying the man’s expression of discomfort in silence before sighing.

His jaw worked, chewing back words that were begging to be let out. 

But this wasn’t the time for that and he knew it. 

There were more important matters to attend to. 

“Why were you released after me?  _ I’m  _ the murder suspect.” 

Kaprizov tensed, obviously thrown by the sudden question. 

“I-they had questions about Chugunkin since he’s my coach.”

“But I killed Chugunkin  _ and  _ Yakov.”

Yuri flinched at the surness and finality of Victor’s tone. Like a confession. But he was lying. He had to be lying. 

“They wanted to know about the team and-and about… about you and the-uh-your rinkmates.” 

“All of them?” Victor quirked a brow at the sudden increase in stuttering. Kaprizov was uncomfortable. He was making headway. 

“About the national team members.”

“So everyone but Georgi and Yuuri.” 

Kaprizov hesitated before nodding.

“You, Babi-Bab…?”

“Babicheva.” Victor corrected. 

“You, Babicheva, and Plisetsky.” 

“What about us?” 

“Whether all of you knew about Feltsman or whether it was just you.” 

“He’s our coach. We all know about Yakov.”           

Kaprizov coughed awkwardly.

“About the-um-the murder.” 

The heavy silence was almost stifling.

“They had a feeling you all were working together. Or that Plisetsky and Babicheva at least knew  _ something _ , even a tiny bit.” 

“So, do they?” 

“What?”

“Do Plisetsky and Babicheva know?”

Kaprizov blinked, finally meeting Victor’s eyes as he searched the impassive face for any sort of clue as to whatever it was the silver haired man was trying to get to.

“I told them I had no clue. They’re not my teammates.” he decided, working to keep his tone neutral.

“And what did they say to that?” 

“They-they moved on to a different topic...About the break in and the photo.” 

 “What about you?” 

“What about me?”

“Do you think they knew?” 

Kaprizov didn’t respond, opting to remain quiet, looking more than a little uncomfortable at the strange conversation they were having. 

But most importantly, he didn’t like the look in Victor’s eyes. 

Or, the absence, to be precise. 

The man’s normally bright and lively eyes looked glazed. They looked deadened. Like he wasn’t actually fully there. 

Like he wasn’t alive. 

“Do you think I did it?” Victor spoke again, gaze not wavering one bit. 

Kaprizov shook his head.

“No.”

He shook his head again.

“You’re not a murderer. It wasn’t you.” 

It was Victor’s turn to stay silent, but he was absorbing everything said. Kaprizov could tell.

“Chugunkin. Feltsman.Your rink. None of that was you. It was all Kvais.” 

“No.” It was barely louder than a whisper. 

“ _ No. _ ” Victor emphasized again with more force. 

“It wasn’t Kvais. Not all of it anyway.” 

“I’m telling you, he’s not dead.” Kaprizov retorted more seriously. 

“And I’m telling you that I saw the man shove a gun to his forehead and splatter me and the door with blood and brain matter. He’s  _ dead _ .”

“But that makes no sense! It was  _ his  _ idea. He said so. He explained the reasoning. He confessed, Nikiforov. This was all him. Me and the others on the team, we’re just pawns that ended in too deep.” 

Victor shrugged at the rambling. 

“It makes sense-” his lithe fingers grabbed the object he set behind him, gripping and ungripping the sizeable knife’s handle as he ran a finger down the sharp steel edge. Sharp enough to draw blood. 

“-if you  _ really  _ consider  _ all  _ of the angles and facts. You’ve got to really  _ look _ because this whole thing is just so chaotic.  _ So  _ chaotic.” 

Even Yuuri looked a little more unsettled than he had been when Kaprizov had knocked on the door. 

Yuri narrowed his eyes, working through what Victor was saying. 

Something wasn’t clicking. But the facts were all there, but _something_ wasn’t right. He was missing something…

And then Kaprizov stopped breathing altogether the moment Victor leaned forward with no warning, tapping the knife casually against his mid-thigh.

It wasn’t accidental. 

This was a threat, and whatever was about to happen wasn’t going to be good. 

He could feel it in the way that all of his blood started to rush, bringing a  _ thu-thump-thu-thump  _ through his ears. He could feel his heart picking up pace as adrenaline shot through his veins. 

And then the world stopped for a moment as his brain finally realized. 

The femoral artery. 

_ Oh.  _ So that was Nikiforov’s game plan. 

“Kaprizov?” 

He let out a garbled “hmm?” 

“We’ve got decisions to make.” 

“Do we?” it thankfully didn’t sound as bad as he felt. 

Victor nodded. 

“But first, I just have a quick question.”

Kaprizov quirked a brow, gesturing for Victor to ask away.

“The photo. I’ve never once mentioned it. Not even at the police station. They only people who know about it other than us three are Chugunkin and Yakov. So how do  _ you  _ know about the it?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to skim the previous chapters for this little ending, but there shouldn't be a continuity error. Kaprizov did know Yuri's flat was broken into, but even when he was invited over to talk about the situation before things got bad, Victor and Yuuri never brought it up. 
> 
> ALSO: !ManipulativeVictor FTW


End file.
